He looked at Jasmin, whose face reflected a mixture of exhaustion and triumphant discovery. "Phase Two experiment… promising," he announced. "We have created a scented, soft soap. A precursor to true liquid soap. Refinements are needed – different oils, perhaps the 'soft fire' lye eventually – but this…" he gestured to the cooling pot, "proves the principle."
Jasmin beamed, fatigue forgotten. They were doing it. Creating things never seen before. Guided by the strange, brilliant alchemy of her Young Lord. The soap empire, liquid or solid, felt a tangible step closer.
—--
The cooling pot of creamy, rosemary-scented soft soap sat between them in the dusty smokehouse, radiating a gentle warmth and the clean, herbaceous fragrance that had finally overpowered the lingering smells of tallow and alkali. The air hummed with a sense of accomplishment, thick and satisfying after hours of focused labor. Lloyd surveyed it with a critical eye, the satisfaction of creation tempered by the pragmatism of needing to verify its function. Theory was theory; results were reality. Especially when a potential thousand Gold Coins and the future of his System upgrades rested on those results.
"Alright, Jasmin," he said, rolling up the sleeves of his practical tunic further, the movement crisp with anticipation. "Theory's done. Practice begins. The moment of truth. Does it actually… clean? Or did we just make scented lard paste?"
He scooped a small dollop of the still-warm, pudding-like soap onto his fingers. It felt smooth, unexpectedly silky, a world away from the gritty, harsh texture of the standard lye blocks used for everything from floors to faces in this Duchy. Feels promising, his internal engineer noted. Good emulsification, no obvious separation. He gestured towards the bucket of rinse water they'd kept nearby. "Water, if you please. Let's see if this miracle paste actually lathers."
Jasmin, her eyes bright with nervous excitement, dipped a clean rag into the bucket and squeezed a small amount of cool water onto Lloyd's hands. He began rubbing his hands together vigorously, working the creamy paste against his skin.
Instantly, a luxurious transformation occurred. Not the weak, reluctant bubbling of poor soap, but a rich, dense, creamy lather bloomed between his palms. It wasn't the airy, almost empty foam of some Earth detergents he vaguely recalled, but something substantial, almost decadent, clinging to his skin like whipped cream. The clean, sharp scent of rosemary burst forth, invigorating and surprisingly potent, effectively masking any lingering fatty undertones.
"Whoa," Lloyd breathed, genuinely impressed himself. Better than expected. Much better. He continued washing, feeling the lather glide smoothly, effortlessly lifting the accumulated grime, soot, and ash from his hands. There was no hint of the abrasive scraping he associated with Riverian 'soap'. This felt… civilized.
"See, Jasmin?" he exclaimed, holding up his lathered hands. "Look at that! Proper foam! Not just greasy bubbles!"
Jasmin leaned closer, eyes wide. "It's… it's so thick, my lord! And white! Not greyish like the kitchen soap!"
"Exactly!" Lloyd rinsed his hands thoroughly in the bucket of clean water. The soap washed away cleanly, instantly, leaving absolutely no sticky residue, no clinging film. He flexed his fingers, assessing the feel of his skin. Clean. Definitely clean. But more than that… soft? Not tight, not stinging, not pleading for moisture. Just… comfortable. And carrying that faint, pleasant hint of rosemary.
Success, he thought, a wave of pure, unadulterated relief washing over him. It actually works. Maybe even better than I hoped for this first tallow-based a@attempt.
He held his hands out for Jasmin to inspect, turning them over. "Well? The verdict, Agent J? Passable?"
Jasmin leaned closer again, peering intently at his hands in the dim light filtering through the cracked door. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the clean skin, the absence of redness or irritation. "My lord! They… they are clean! Cleaner than I've ever seen hands after working with ash! And…" she hesitated, then, emboldened by their shared work, cautiously reached out, brushing a gloved fingertip against the back of his hand. Her gasp was audible. "...they feel smooth! Soft, even! Not rough or dry like after using the kitchen soap! It feels… wonderful!" She looked up at him, astonishment shining brightly on her face. "It… it works! Beautifully! It's like… like washing with silk!"
A broad grin of genuine triumph spread across Lloyd's face, chasing away the fatigue. "Silk, eh? I like that. Functional, gentle, pleasant scent. Phase Two preliminary success confirmed!" He felt a surge of energy, the potential of this simple creation suddenly feeling vast. This wasn't just soap; it was a revolution in a pot.