Chapter 25: The Glass Workshop Begins

― [Meluestat Glass Workshop – Lien] ―

It had been three weeks since my meeting with Rombaut-san, and preparations were now reaching their final stage. The renovation of the workshop was complete; tools and materials had all been gathered. Soon, the trial operation of our long-awaited glassmaking business would begin.

In addition to Rombaut-san, who was leading the project, we had managed to recruit another alchemist — Olaf-san, a Bronze-ranked one at that. With two alchemists on board, the operation was finally taking shape. We hadn’t searched for established alchemists this time; instead, we looked for people who had once studied alchemy. That shift in approach proved wise — it made all the difference.

Finding a professional glassworker, however, turned out to be much harder. In the end, we convinced Corbus-san, a retired master craftsman, to teach the trade to our workers — most of whom were slaves. Under his guidance, they would learn the delicate art of shaping fire and sand into shimmering glass.

Four young men were chosen as apprentices:
Aufste, 21 years old; Fritz, 19; Dirk, 17; and Melchio, also 17.
All of them were debt slaves who would be freed after roughly ten years. I chose them because their debts were not of their own making — and because, even after liberation, they wished to continue working with us. That loyalty mattered.

For now, these seven — the two alchemists, the four apprentices, and Master Corbus — would operate under the supervision of Eldrus-san, who would oversee the entire glassmaking business.

As for the matter of training children as future alchemists, I had relayed Rombaut-san’s concerns to Tobias. But he only smiled and said, “The more one can do, the better.” And so, the plan to raise them as alchemists remained unchanged.

“Corbus, you may begin.”

Today, only those entrusted with technical knowledge were present in the workshop. We had gathered to witness — for the first time — the actual process of making glass.

“Right then… let’s begin, Rombaut,” Corbus said gruffly.

“Yes, sir!” Rombaut replied with enthusiasm.

At Eldrus’s signal, Corbus looked around at the workers encircling him and gave a small nod to Rombaut. Taking the cue, Rombaut summoned his Domain Sphere — a shimmering orb of magical energy that enclosed the workspace. After confirming that the sphere had stabilized, Corbus scooped up a ladleful of molten glass with a long-handled shovel and brought it over the orb.

“Aufste!”

“Yes, master!”

At once, Aufste stepped forward, holding a long-handled scraper with a slanted tip. Carefully, he scraped the viscous molten glass from the shovel and guided it into the Domain Sphere.

“Purify!”

As soon as the glass entered, Rombaut chanted the command. At his words, the impurities within the molten glass began to separate, sinking and flowing out from the lower edge of the sphere — dark threads oozing away until the material shone clear and bright.
Fritz stood ready, receiving the expelled impurities with his shovel.

Once purification was complete, the now-clear glass was released from the lower part of the sphere. Corbus caught it deftly and placed it into the heating furnace to raise its temperature once more.

When the glass glowed with the proper heat, he and Aufste poured it into a trapezoidal mold and waited patiently for it to cool.

“Good. All that’s left now is to let it lose its heat naturally.”

It was my first time seeing glassmaking up close. The molten glass was far more viscous than I had imagined — heavy and sluggish like honey, yet searingly hot. Even with magic, it cooled surprisingly fast; during purification alone, its temperature had already dropped considerably.

When I made a lens myself, I had kept the glass heated until just before shaping, never removing it from the Domain Sphere until the very end. Seeing how each step required separate handling, I realized how much more difficult this process truly was.

“The impurities seem rather few, don’t they?” Fritz remarked, peering curiously at the small lump of residue.

“Of course they are,” Corbus replied with a snort. “We’re using silica sand meant for windows — impurities are next to nothing.”

The silica sand in question came from Baron Donat’s neighboring domain — a reddish, fine-grained sand. It was cheap and abundant, yet due to its low value by weight, it wasn’t worth exporting far. Unfortunately, Baron Donat’s land was mostly rocky hills and dense forests, difficult to cultivate and poor in food production. Their main industries were the mining and sale of cheap silica and stone, so the fief’s economy was far from prosperous.

Although minerals had been discovered in several places, rather than invest in mining, Baron Donat was focused on clearing forests to open trade routes toward Baron Merlot’s territory — a risky but ambitious project.

“That means…” I murmured.

“Yes,” Tobias said with a knowing nod. “The village of Furnendorp was built precisely to serve that road — the one connecting to Donat’s land.”

Currently, trade between the two baronies required detouring around mountains and forests, making transport slow and costly. Because of that, only non-perishable food could be sent to Donat’s domain.

The Merlot family wanted minerals; the Donat family wanted food. It was a mutually beneficial venture — until Furnendorp’s destruction delayed the entire project.

“We’ve just finished clearing the area,” Tobias added. “The next step is sending in engineers and an adventurer escort party to start repairing the outer walls.”

“What about the damage to the buildings?” I asked.

“Doors and windows were destroyed, of course,” Tobias sighed. “But only a few homes burned down completely. Most can be repaired and lived in again.”

Even after Furnendorp was rebuilt, clearing the forest to complete the trade road would take years of labor. Still, now that the glass industry was underway, finishing that road quickly would be crucial.

As I listened to my mother and Tobias discussing these matters, Corbus began removing the cooled glass from its mold.

“All right, this one’s ready,” he announced, placing the cooled piece on the worktable for everyone to see.

It was a transparent glass ingot, gleaming faintly under the workshop’s light.

“Ohh… beautiful,” Tobias breathed, turning the ingot over in his hands, admiring how it caught and refracted the light. It was made small enough to be held in one hand — just the right size for remelting later when needed.

“Corbus, next — the lens,” Eldrus instructed, clearly pleased by Tobias’s reaction.

“This time, we’ll do it in sequence,” Corbus said. “Rombaut handles purification, Olaf handles shaping.”

We watched as they began the second phase — transforming molten glass into a proper lens. To ensure consistency, they decided to replicate the same lens model previously made for Rugena.

“All right, let’s start!”

At Corbus’s signal, molten glass was drawn from the furnace once more. Aufste transferred it carefully into the Domain Sphere, and Rombaut activated his spell again.

“Purify!”

Once purified, the glass was reheated to restore its working temperature, then passed to Olaf.
He conjured his own Domain Sphere and placed the molten glass inside.

“Shape!”

With a steady hand and eyes fixed on a detailed lens diagram — complete with thickness curves and width markings — Olaf began to mold the glass using alchemy. The process relied heavily on one’s imagination. Every contour had to be vividly pictured in the mind.

Removing the lens too soon would cause it to warp as it cooled, so it had to remain within the sphere until fully hardened.

“Um… do I have to keep the Domain Sphere active until it’s completely cool?” Olaf asked hesitantly, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Huh? Of course. That’s what I said earlier, wasn’t it?” Corbus grumbled.

“It doesn’t consume much mana just to maintain it, right?”

“Well, Rombaut only did purification, didn’t he?”

“Want to switch places, then? Mine takes more rounds,” Corbus shot back.

“…No, I’ll manage,” Olaf muttered.

Purification demanded constant magic use and drained Rombaut quickly, while Olaf needed intense focus to maintain the delicate shaping process — and he couldn’t move until the lens cooled.

After a long wait, the lens was finally removed.

“How is it?” Olaf asked nervously.

“Rugena, would you check it for us?” Mother said gently.

“Yes, Martine-sama.”

Rugena was the only person currently wearing glasses, so she was best suited to assess the lens’s quality.

“Hmm… something feels off,” she murmured after peering through it.

It seemed there was some distortion — likely due to a lapse in Olaf’s mental image during shaping.

“What do you mean by ‘off’?” Tobias asked.

“Ah, please wait a moment,” she said, fetching a gridded ruler and a caliper. She placed the lens over the grid and measured its thickness carefully.

“This lens,” she said after a pause, “has slight irregularities in thickness. That’s why the view through it changes depending on where you look.”

A perfect lens required smooth curvature throughout. Since shaping relied on imagination, even a vague image could introduce minute distortions. As Rugena slid the lens over the grid, the straight lines appeared to bend slightly at certain points — a clear sign of uneven curvature.

“So… it’s a failure?” Olaf asked quietly.

“For a first attempt, this is impressive,” Rugena said kindly. “Craftsmanship always begins with mistakes. Better to fail often than to fear failing at all.”

Her words drew a faint smile from Olaf. The distortion was minimal — invisible to the naked eye. With more practice, he’d surely master the process. Both alchemists would need to perfect their lenses before we began selling glasses, and we’d also need to prepare lenses of varying strengths.

“By the way,” Olaf ventured, “who will make the eyeglass frames?”

He looked uneasy — probably afraid he’d be asked to craft those as well.

“That’s been arranged already,” Tobias assured him. “We’ll commission a goldsmith.”

A goldsmith — a craftsman of fine metal and gemstone ornaments. When Tobias first saw Rugena’s simple spectacles, he thought they looked too plain. So he decided to have a goldsmith design more elegant frames, turning function into fashion.

Since the glasses might or might not sell well, hiring a goldsmith permanently wasn’t wise — a one-time commission would suffice.

“I see… and, um… if the glasses don’t sell at all, what happens to us?” Olaf asked timidly.

He truly worried too much. But I could understand — he had once been a slave, after all.

“Don’t fret,” Tobias said with an easy smile. “No one’s getting dismissed. Selling the glass ingots alone will cover the costs.”

As planned, the glass ingots would serve as our main product, with glasses being a secondary experiment. Later, we’d branch out into other lens-based goods.

“Even if the lens had slight distortion,” Tobias added, “you both succeeded in purification and shaping. The rest is just practice.”

And with that, the trial operation of our glassmaking enterprise officially began.

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