Chapter2 — The Iron and the Faith
The dawn broke over Zaragoza in a pale gold light. From the balcony of the royal palace, King Alfonso IV of Aragon watched his only son kneeling in the courtyard chapel.The old king's breath came ragged; the years of war and plague had withered him, but his eyes burned bright with both pride and fear."The boy is changed," he murmured. "Since the fever took him, he speaks as though touched by Heaven—or haunted by it."
Inside the chapel, Leon de Aragón rose from prayer and looked out at the waking city.The air carried the mingled scent of smoke, sea salt, and iron—the forge smoke from the lower districts.He'd spent three days studying maps, tax ledgers, and reports of banditry, only to find chaos.The nobles taxed peasants into ruin.The army was unpaid, ill-trained, and scattered.And the Moors, entrenched in Valencia and Granada, were gathering for a counterstrike.
Leon clenched his fist.An undisciplined army, a divided crown, and a faith that's fading into politics. Lord, why send me here if not to rebuild it?
The Council of Zaragoza
That morning, the royal court gathered beneath the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall.Tapestries of past crusades hung along the stone walls, and sunlight streamed through stained glass depicting St. James slaying the infidel.
Nobles filled the chamber, armored and perfumed, whispering among themselves.They expected the same soft-spoken, uncertain prince who'd nearly died of fever.What they got was something else entirely.
Leon entered in a plain black tunic, no jewels, no crown—only the lion seal of Aragon on his chest.He bowed before his father, then addressed the court.
"My lords," Leon began, his voice calm yet firm. "I have seen the face of death and returned. God has given me back my breath for a purpose—to restore this kingdom to His glory."
Murmurs spread like ripples.Don Ramiro de Castellón, a grizzled general and baron, rose with a smirk."And what would you have us do, Your Highness? Pray the Moors into retreat? The coffers are empty, the levies exhausted."
Leon met his gaze steadily."No. We'll rebuild our strength through discipline and craft. I will raise a standing army—trained year-round, paid in coin, loyal to the Crown, not to the whims of noble lords."
Gasps and protests broke out."That's madness!" shouted one count."Impossible!" cried another."Our feudal rights—"
Leon struck the marble table with his fist, silencing them."Your rights," he said, "have left peasants starving and soldiers deserting. You fear order because it ends your greed."
A dangerous stillness fell.
Then, unexpectedly, King Alfonso coughed—then laughed."By God, he sounds like a king."
The Birth of the Royal Foundries
In the weeks that followed, Leon began reshaping Aragon in small, deliberate steps.He toured the blacksmiths' quarters, the dockyards, and the masons' guilds, speaking not as a distant ruler but as one who understood their craft.He asked questions no noble ever would.
"Could you shape iron thinner, like parchment?""What if you use water wheels to turn the bellows?""Can a cannon's barrel be cast thicker, smoother, longer?"
Brother Tomas de Ebro, a humble monk known for his curiosity in "forbidden mechanics," caught the young king's attention.Together, they experimented in secret—designing improved forges, larger looms, and crude water-driven hammers.
The first royal foundry was established outside Zaragoza, disguised as a guild project "for the defense of Christendom."Leon called it Deus Ferrum—"God's Iron."
To the priests, it was divine inspiration.To the nobles, it was witchcraft.
The Fire Test
Change brings enemies.Within months, several nobles refused to pay the new military tax.Rumors spread that the prince was possessed—that he studied dark arts, that he meant to enslave the nobility under a "king's tyranny."
Don Ramiro himself led a small rebellion in Castellón, declaring Leon unfit to rule.King Alfonso, too frail to lead an army, summoned his son.
"You've provoked them too soon," the old king warned. "You speak of reform as if it were crusade. The lords will test you with fire."
Leon knelt before his father, his eyes resolute."Then let the fire burn away the rot."
The Battle of Castellón Fields
At dawn, Leon's small force—barely two thousand men—faced a rebel army twice their size.But these were no common levies. They were drilled, uniformed, and armed with the first crude bombards—iron tubes cast in his new foundry.
The rebels laughed when they saw them rolled into place."Children's toys!" they jeered.
When the first cannon thundered, the world changed.The sound shattered the morning stillness.Stone and blood flew through the ranks of the rebels.Their horses panicked. Their line broke.
Leon led the charge himself, sword in hand, banner high.When Don Ramiro fell to his knees, surrounded, Leon spared his life.
"Serve your king," he said, "not for me—but for Aragon."
Ramiro bowed his head. "Then teach me, sire… teach me this new war."
That night, the smoke of battle rose toward the stars.Leon stood upon the field, the crucifix glinting in the moonlight."Lord," he murmured, "You have shown me iron and flame. If this is Your tool, then I'll wield it. But keep my soul from pride."
In the distance, the bells of Zaragoza rang again—not for a victory, but for the birth of a new age.