The day began with a light morning mist at the Mastor Trading Company. The three owners were discussing the festival and how to handle sales. When to launch each product, which days to sell them, and at what point they would recover their investments.
— Pudiente — Neo, I know, but it's madness. How are we supposed to ruin the nobles' footwear? — he said, leaning back in his chair.
●— No, we're just putting a layer of rubber over the sole. —
— Pudiente — But you can't do that with a used shoe. —
●— Why not? You'd be giving the shoe a longer lifespan. —
■— What if we bought shoes and fitted them with rubber soles? —
— Pudiente — But don't you understand that shoes are made to measure? —
●— You should've started with that. —
— Pudiente — It's common sense. You know what you're always like you raise wages, cut working hours, respect no one... — He looked at the floor for a moment. — And then you invent some impossible machine and end up earning more than my father has in years. —
Hunt stood in front of the blackboard. Neo was holding a piece of chalk. Neither of them said anything when Pudiente gave them permission to continue.
■— We have one hundred and ninety-two finished pairs and a production rate of around sixty pairs a day. Seventy-two if the seamstresses' mother keeps helping. The estimated cost is... —
Neo quickly wrote.
Opening stock: 192 units.
Production: 60–72 / day.
Leather shoe cost: 3 iron coins.
Transport cost A: 1h–1h 20 min (Shops – Mastor Co.) × 2 coins/hour. (Transporter's wage)
Transport cost B: 20 min (Mastor Co. – Seamstresses' house) × 2 coins/hour.
Transport cost C: 20 min (Mastor Co. – Seamstresses' house) × 2 coins/hour.
Sewing cost: 1 coin per unit.
Abrumo sap cost: 0.
Manufacturing cost: raw materials + wages: 1 coin per shoe.
Total unit cost: 7 coins.
Sale price: 10 coins.
■— Our problem isn't profitability. Our problem is whether or not we can respond to a sudden increase in demand. — Neo yawned as he rewrote a poorly formed number. — We can't sell during the first few hours of the day. That means we won't have real consumption data until after the festival's opening ceremony. So we'll have to work with hypothetical scenarios. — Neo drew a weekly calendar and divided each day into four time slots on the blackboard.
■— Green zone. More than one hundred and fifty pairs in the warehouse. —
■— Yellow zone. Fewer than one hundred and twenty pairs. Preventive activation of production resources. —
— Pudiente — What does that mean? —
■— Notify the sisters so they're ready. — Pudiente nodded, not entirely understanding.
■— Orange zone. Fewer than eighty pairs. Immediate transfer to the workshop. Emergency bonus pay. Meals covered by the company. — Neo wrote the notes beside it.
■— Red zone. Fewer than forty pairs. Rapid expansion of production capacity. Hiring additional staff. Purchasing external stock. —
— Pudiente — Additional staff? —
■— We'll ask the sisters to inform their friends, cousins, or neighbours. Anyone who knows how to sew leather will do. — Pudiente nodded again. — On the other hand, the nobles must be kept outside the normal sales flow. —
GREEN > 150 pairs
YELLOW < 120 pairs NOTIFY THE SISTERS.
ORANGE < 80 pairs SISTERS IN THE WORKSHOP.
RED < 40 MORE LABOUR.
■— We have to control the nobles so they don't take more than ten pairs today. No one is walking away with fifty pairs at once. If they want large quantities, we'll register a purchase order and negotiate after the festival. —
— Pudiente — I always struggle to understand you when you talk about company management, but I think I'm starting to get it little by little. Even so, I still think we need to adjust this idea of yours. I've got a feeling about it. — Hunt pointed at another section of the blackboard.
■— Wait a moment, let me finish and then you can tell me... Right, now comes the serious problem. If we run out of stock on the first day, we'll lose sales for the rest of the festival. Therefore, we'll have to buy every generic shoe we can find. —
— Pudiente — Up to what price? —
■— As long as we can sell them at a profit. —
— Pudiente — That could be risky. —
■— Buy everything that meets the minimum quality standard, and then we'll optimise costs later. —
Neo continued doing calculations. The blackboard was already covered in arrows, numbers, and percentages.
■— The most important thing is to maintain operational continuity, avoid stock shortages, and increase production capacity before the bottleneck appears. —
Silence filled the office. Pudiente looked at Neo, then at Hunt, and finally at the blackboard.
— Pudiente — It was so much easier to sell things when my father was in charge... — He sighed, slightly flustered. — If people are willing to pay more, should we sell them at a higher price? —
■— No, because I don't want to sell only two hundred pairs. I want the entire city or even the whole kingdom to know within a week who makes the best shoes. —
While Hunt and Pudiente went over the different scenarios once again, Neo stared at some scraps of leather lying on a table. He remembered how the seamstresses sewed, how they pushed the needles through the leather, and the marks it left on their fingers.
●— I think I'm going to make something for the girls. —
Neither of them paid him much attention. Neo was already walking towards the door.
■— What exactly are you going to make? —
●— I don't know yet. I'll think of something. And by the way, I can't stand this meeting any longer. —
Hunt and Pudiente continued reviewing the action plan. Meanwhile, Neo went down to the workshop and looked for a sewing kit. Using a leftover piece of rubber, he began sewing without thread, trying to imitate the movements of the two sisters.
Before long, he realised it was easier to push the needle with the third phalanx of his index finger rather than the first. However, it hurt even more. He tried tying a piece of leather around his finger with thread as padding, but every time he pushed the needle through the rubber, he still felt the sharp prick.
The idea came to him almost instantly as he remembered his mother and grandfather sewing. He lit the furnace and placed a small crucible over the fire. While it heated up, he split a small brass ingot in half and dropped one half inside. Focusing mana into his hand, he made a slight gesture, feeding the flames to speed up the melting process. While the metal melted, he shoveled several scoops of sand onto a table. Then he found a flat wooden board and smoothed the surface until it was perfectly level.
From his subspace, he took out a silver coin slightly larger than he needed and pressed it into the sand, leaving a circular imprint. He then sharpened a small stick with his knife and used the tip to carve several diamond-shaped grooves and small indentations inside the impression. If the surface was rough, the needle would have something to grip and would not slip.
When the brass had completely melted, he carefully poured it into the improvised mould. While the piece cooled, he placed the crucible back over the fire with the other half of the ingot. Before continuing, he noted on the materials list that he had used one brass ingot.
Once it had cooled, he removed the piece from the sand and submerged it in oil. Then he found the finest sandfish skin in the workshop and began polishing the surface until all the burrs were gone. However, a flat plate would not do. It needed to fit the shape of a finger.
He covered the piece with leather to avoid marking it and began tapping it gently on the anvil. Little by little, the disc took on a slight curve. Every few blows, he held it against the side of his index finger to check the fit. Once he was satisfied, he cut several narrow leather straps and used them to fasten the plate around his finger. The result was a kind of brass side thimble that protected the third phalanx and allowed the needle to be pushed with force without any risk of piercing the finger.
It was (8:00) when Pudiente shouted from the doorway that he was going to fetch the seamstress sisters, as well as buy more shoes. A few minutes later, Hunt met with the carpenters to produce more rubber sheets. Neo then left the workshop to kidnap the blacksmiths.
After presenting the invention, the blacksmiths immediately began pointing out flaws that any apprentice would have avoided.
●— Why would I argue with you? But now that this kind of thimble exists, you know what to do, don't you? —
— Varo — Right then, lads, let's get to work. —
●— By the way, I spoke to Hunt while we were on our way to the workshop. If everything goes well, we might let you leave before (12:00) today, so you can enjoy the start of the festival with your friends and families as well. —
— Varo — You heard them. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can head home. — he shouted to the rest of the blacksmiths.
●— I'll be happy with ten thimbles and a handful of needles. —
— Varo — But we don't know how to carve bone. —
●— Bone needles? Don't be ridiculous. We'll make them out of brass... First we'll melt the brass and pour it into sand moulds to make thin sheets. Then we'll cut the sheets into narrow strips with the shears. After that, we'll file them down until they're round and... —
— Varo — Neo. —
●— Yes? —
— Varo — Why are we going to do all that? —
●— Because we need something like a brass thread. —
— Varo — A brass wire? — Neo frowned.
●— Yes... brass wire, or a brass rod. — The blacksmiths exchanged several glances.
— Varo — We have two drawplates. —
●— Two what? — he said in surprise, remembering the industrial machines from Earth.
The blacksmith pointed towards a corner of the workshop. Neo followed his finger. Behind the sand box that he himself had prepared for casting stood two thick steel plates leaning against the wall. Each was covered with holes of different sizes. Neo stared at them for a few seconds.
●— Oh. —
— Varo — Oh? —
●— That's a drawplate? —
— Varo — Yes. —
●— Right... right... of course... that... bloody hell. —
— Dome — We've had them since before you were born. — Laughter spread throughout the workshop.
— Val — You feed a rod through the biggest hole, then keep pulling it through smaller and smaller ones. —
●— ... —
— Val — We do know a thing or two about blacksmithing. You don't have to invent everything yourself. —
●— Fair enough... you're right. Next time I'll ask first. —
— Varo — That's what we're here for. —
— Val — Still, it was entertaining watching you reinvent half of blacksmithing. — More laughter echoed through the workshop.
●— You're all a bunch of bastards. — he said with a laugh.
— Varo — And you're our know-it-all. Now stop talking and let's get back to work. I want to be out of here before (12:00). —
Neo left the blacksmiths cleaning and tidying the workshop while he went to find the seamstresses. When he reached the office, he found the two sisters working in silence. Their hands moved quickly, pushing needles through leather again and again.
●— Morning. How's everything going? —
— Turi — As you can see, Mr Neo. Working. —
— Cleo — Mr Hunt told us we'd be paid more per shoe today. —
●— And where's the gentleman himself? —
— Turi — He said something about some children. —
●— Right, I know where he is then. — Neo walked over to the table and placed a brass needle and a side thimble fastened with a small leather strap in front of them. — I need your opinion. This is what we've made for you. —
The two sisters exchanged a puzzled glance.
— Turi — Our opinion? —
●— Yes. I want to know what's wrong with it. —
Turi carefully picked up the needle and put on the thimble. She stitched a few times through a piece of leather and quickly changed the position of her hand several times. Then she examined the thimble for a few seconds.
— Turi — It works well, Mr Neo. But... if I may say so... the strap gets in the way a little when I bend my finger. It also shifts when I push hard. — She handed the thimble to her sister.
— Cleo — The needle goes through much more easily than the bone ones. — She pushed it through several times. — And it doesn't hurt when I sew anymore... — Her expression changed. — But this is far too big for me. —
— Turi — Your hands are smaller than mine. —
●— Perfect. That's exactly what I wanted to know. — he said as he turned around and walked towards the door. The two sisters watched him.
— Turi — Aren't you going to take it back to improve it? —
●— Nah... keep the needle. I'll bring you another version in a little while. — Before leaving, he turned back again. — One more thing. I've noticed that sometimes you push the stitches with the palm of your hand. —
— Turi — When we've been sewing for many hours. —
●— Would a palm guard be useful? —
— Turi — I think so. —
— Cleo — It would save us a lot of injuries. — Neo took several coins from his pocket and placed them on the table.
●— Then tell me which one fits your hand best. — Cleo picked up the gold coin.
— Cleo — I've never held one before. —
●— Well, if you like, I can pay you in gold coins. — Both sisters shook their heads vigorously.
— Turi — No, sir. We'd be robbed before we got home. —
●— Bloody hell... — he said, momentarily speechless. — And for the size? —
— Turi — The gold one. —
— Cleo — I'd say the gold one too. —
●— Perfect. I'll be right back. —
An hour later, the door opened again. Neo came in with Hunt and placed four side thimbles, two palm guards, and ten brass needles on the table.
●— You'll have to forgive me. I got a bit carried away. —
Turi picked up one of the thimbles and fastened it around her finger. It fit almost perfectly. Cleo tried another one, then the palm guard. After sewing a few stitches, the two of them looked at each other with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
— Turi — This works so much better. —
— Cleo — I've never sewn this comfortably before. — Hunt examined the stitching and nodded.
■— Next time, use steel. —
●— I'd rather make mistakes with brass. It's a lot cheaper. — Turi looked at the neatly arranged needles on the table.
— Turi — Mr Neo... how many did you make? —
●— Ten. — The two sisters exchanged a glance.
— Cleo — My mother only has one steel needle, and it belonged to my grandmother before her. —
●— Then if you need more, we'll make more. That's what I've got five blacksmiths out there waiting for orders for. —
For several seconds, neither of them knew what to say. Hunt set aside the shoes he had been examining.
■— Right. I've made a decision. After the festival, I want to hire you both permanently. I can offer you an eight-hour working day and one iron coin for every finished shoe. —
●— If you make around forty shoes a day for eighteen days a month... between the two of you, that would be about one thousand four hundred and forty iron coins. Roughly one gold coin, four silver coins, and four copper coins. — The sisters stood motionless.
— Turi — Sir... that's more than we need to live on. — she said after a few seconds.
■— That's the whole point of working, isn't it? — Silence settled over the room once again.
Turi gently stroked one of the thimbles before looking up.
— Turi — Mr Neo... is all of this really for us? —
●— Of course. —
— Cleo — But... why? —
●— I saw you pricking your hands, and I thought there had to be a better way to work. —
The two sisters lowered their heads.
— Cleo — If one seamstress leaves, they just find another. — she said after almost a minute.
— Turi — If she falls ill, they find another. —
— Cleo — Or if she ruins her hands. — Turi took a deep breath before finishing.
— Turi — There's always someone else who can work. — Neo frowned, unable to understand why things had to be that way.
●— Then we'll just have to stop doing things that way. —
Turi felt her eyes fill with tears, and beside her, Cleo could no longer hide her emotions either. Faced with the sisters' tears, Neo and Hunt were left completely at a loss.
(#■— Are they crying? —#)
(#●— What do we do? —#)
(#■— I don't know, mate. —#)
Neo quickly searched his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. At the same time, Hunt held out his own. Both of them stood there for several seconds with their arms awkwardly outstretched towards the sisters, frozen in place.
— Turi — I'm sorry. — she said shyly, taking out her own handkerchief.
■— No, no. Don't apologise. —
●— There's no need. — he added.
— Cleo — It's just... no one ever does things like this for us. — she admitted in a barely audible voice.
Neo remained silent. Her words brought back a fleeting memory of the workers who, during his childhood, had thanked his father for giving them an opportunity while others criticised him behind his back. Long ago, he had learned that trying to understand every human reaction was impossible. He looked at Hunt and made a circular gesture with his hands. His friend's eyes lit up as he understood the idea.
■— I'll be right back. — he announced, getting up from the office.
— Cleo — Is he angry? — she asked timidly.
●— No. — he assured her with a smile.
A few minutes later, Hunt returned carrying a plate with two perfect apples, immediately catching the seamstresses' attention.
— Turi — Mr Hunt... it's spring. — she pointed out, puzzled.
■— I know. — he replied as he began peeling one.
— Cleo — That means they've been kept in storage. — she murmured. — They're very expensive. —
■— Well... more or less, yes. — he admitted casually as he cut the apple into wedges.
Neo had already started peeling the other apple by the time Hunt finished and offered them the first slices.
— Turi — We can't accept this. —
●— Yes, you can. — he replied firmly. — In fact, if you don't eat them, I won't let you carry on sewing. —
With no other choice, the two sisters accepted the slices. At first they ate timidly, but hunger and the novelty of the fruit soon had them devouring it; neither of them had ever tasted an apple before. Neo pretended to look the other way so as not to make them feel uncomfortable.
Just then, the door swung open. Marte walked in carrying a wooden tray with a steaming teapot and several cups.
— Marte — Am I interrupting anything? Mr Hunt asked me to bring this before I left. — The sisters froze, overwhelmed.
— Cleo — Is that tea? —
— Turi — For us? — she added.
— Marte — I suppose so, isn't it? — Marte poured the tea as a sweet aroma of forest berries filled the office. Seeing that the seamstresses did not dare touch the cups, she smiled knowingly. — Well, I'll be off. Enjoy the festival. And you. — she added, looking at Neo. — Try not to give the blacksmiths any more work today. —
●— Same to you. And I can't promise anything. — Marte left the office, shaking her head. When the door closed...
— Cleo — This is too much. —
■— It's only a bit of tea. —
— Cleo — But it's still tea. —
■— And it'll go cold if you don't drink it. —
The sisters exchanged a glance, picked up their cups, and took a small sip. They froze instantly, astonished by how delicious it tasted. They immediately reached for their tools again, but Hunt gently stopped them.
■— Leave the shoes for a moment and enjoy your tea. —
The seamstresses obeyed, finally giving in to their kindness. Neo nodded in satisfaction and stood up, signalling to Hunt that it was time to leave.
(#■— Well, I don't think they're crying anymore. —#)
(#●— Doesn't look like it. —#)
(#■— Mission accomplished. —#)
(#●— Agreed. —#)
The two engineers tiptoed out of the office. Once the door had closed, the sisters were left alone in complete silence, surrounded by new needles, thimbles, and steaming cups.
— What just happened? — Cleo asked, breaking the spell.
Turi did not answer. She simply gazed at the warmth of the cup in her hands before looking towards the door, trying to come to terms with the strange yet genuine kindness of their new employers.
Neo and Hunt walked downstairs into the courtyard, where Neo insisted they stop by the blacksmith's workshop before heading to the shoe stall on the main street.
■— You're really going to ignore everything that just happened in there. —
●— Absolutely. —
When they reached the workshop, Neo pointed out the two drawplates to Hunt.
■— You're kidding me. We already had these? —
●— Yep. And do you know what I've been thinking? —
■— The wire rings for the glass jars. —
●— Yep. — A voice came from the entrance to the workshop.
— Varo — Am I interrupting something? — The two of them turned around.
■— Varo? —
●— Hadn't you already gone home? —
— Varo — I had, but I'd like you to speak with a man. — Neo and Hunt exchanged a glance.
●— Is one of your acquaintances looking for work...? —
— Varo — Not exactly. — he said as he stepped out of the workshop first. — I need you to speak to this man. —