"My Lord, this is the tube used for blowing glass."
While the materials were being heated, Fjord handed Simon a ceramic tube.
Once the glass liquid was ford, if one wanted to shape the glass, blowing would be required.
In fact, this was the most critical part of glass production. Because the temperature of the glass liquid was so high, and Simon didn’t have heat-resistant alloy tubes, he had to use a clay-fired ceramic tube. After all, he couldn’t even produce a seamless steel tube at this stage.
On either side of the regenerator, craftsn took turns operating the bellows, blowing the heat from the coal in the regenerator into the furnace. After waiting for an hour, Simon instructed the craftsn to open the furnace lid.
Instantly, a wave of heat surged out of the furnace, causing the craftsman to jump back in alarm. Once he regained his composure, he slowly approached the furnace and saw the red, molten liquid inside.
He spoke. "My Lord, the materials inside have lted."
Simon stepped forward and saw a lava-like liquid; this was the glass liquid.
"Hand the blowpipe," Simon said to Fjord.
While Simon could teach the theory, practical skills had to be honed through practice. No one could beco a master glassblower overnight.
The blowpipe in Fjord’s hand was about 1.5 ters long, the standard length for industrial blowpipes.
Taking the blowpipe, Simon dipped it into the molten glass and quickly rolled the end of the glass liquid on a rolling board to ensure even distribution.
At the sa ti, he blew a puff of air into the pipe and quickly sealed it with his hand. A bubble soon ford in the glass liquid.
Next, he repeatedly softened the glass in the furnace, coated it with more glass liquid, and finally placed it into a mould.
While blowing and rolling, the glass liquid quickly filled the mould.
After cooling, a sowhat crude round-bottod glass bottle erged. Simon sighed, he was all theory and no skill.
When he looked up, embarrassed, he saw everyone in the room staring at the glass bottle in awe.
Fjord murmured. "Heavens, why is this bottle so beautiful?"
The other craftsn also gasped in amazent, their expressions toward Simon now filled with admiration. This Prince Simon seed capable of anything.
"See? This is the art of glassblowing. Of course, glassblowing is a profound skill. You’ll need to practice the thods I’ve taught you to produce various glassware. Go ahead." Simon said, shalessly brushing off his own lack of skill.
In the courtyard of the Machinery Departnt, there were fifty craftsn, all selected from the slaves. Simon had taught each of them how to blow a specific type of glassware.
Hearing Simon’s words, Fjord was the first to pick up a blowpipe and head to the furnace. The other craftsn followed closely behind. To them, glass seed far more impressive than soap, perfu, or alcohol.
Simon didn’t leave imdiately but stayed to guide the craftsn in their glassblowing techniques. By the end of the day, the molten glass in the furnace was gone, replaced by a pile of failed glass products.
Of course, this failure was relative to modern standards. In reality, these glass products were usable and even sellable. Simon planned to sell them to rchants.
Failure on the first attempt was normal. Simon didn’t expect the craftsn to master glassblowing overnight. With practice, they would improve. The most important thing was that the glass industry had taken its first step. With glass, Simon could accomplish many things and earn a lot of silver.
After a busy day, Simon took his handmade glass bottle back to the palace.
Ysabeau and Joan had just returned from running errands. When Joan saw the bottle in Simon’s hand, she exclaid. "My Lord, what is this? It’s so beautiful!"
Ysabeau also leaned in, her eyes sparkling. Girls had no resistance to beautiful things.
"This is called glass," Simon said with a smile. His failed creation seed quite popular.
"Glass? Sothing this beautiful must cost thousands of caps of silver." Ysabeau said. Since taking charge of the castle’s finances, she had beco very sensitive to spending.
"More like tens of thousands. I’ve never seen anything like this. Is it made of jade?" Joan asked, puzzled.
Simon was pleased with their reactions. In the 17th century, colonisers traded small glass beads for vast tracts of land from Native Aricans, showing how valuable glass was to those who had never seen it before.
"No, this glass wasn’t bought, nor is it made of jade. It was produced by the Machinery Departnt." Simon revealed, enjoying the look of surprise on Ysabeau and Joan’s faces.
"Produced by the Machinery Departnt?" Joan’s eyes darted around. "My Lord, can you give this glass to ? I’ll skip the clay pot chicken."
"Sure, co over tonight, and I’ll check if you’ve grown taller." Simon said with a mischievous grin.
Ysabeau and Joan blushed, shooting Simon a reproachful glance before heading into the castle.
Simon followed behind, his playful deanour a small escape from the monotony of daily life.
After dinner and so playful banter with Ysabeau and Joan, Simon returned to his chambers to ponder how to maximise the profits from glass.
First, the bottles for perfu and Brambleford’s Finest could be replaced. Naturally, with upgraded packaging, a line of high-end perfus and wines would erge.
However, the contents of the bottles would remain largely unchanged. The added cost would co from the packaging. Simon was confident that the elite would be willing to pay for it.
Although the glass industry was just starting, the knowledge Simon brought would allow it to avoid groping in the dark and instead advance rapidly on a clear path.
As Simon had anticipated, after about ten days of practice, the craftsn were able to produce passable glassware.
While not perfect, they t his basic requirents.
During this ti, many rchants in Brambleford City had been trying to find out what Simon was up to. The Goldwynd, Chandlier, Duskry and Redwyck families were especially persistent.
To this end, the four families had even called back Walter and Alfred, who were in charge of their external businesses.
"Your Highness, stop keeping us in suspense. We’re dying of curiosity." Walter had been hovering around Simon for the past two days.
Alfred stood nearby. Although he and Walter didn’t get along, they were united in this matter.
"Why the rush? Tomorrow, I’ll be exhibiting this mysterious item at the Eastern Market. You’ll see it then." Simon said.
"Can’t you let us take a peek first?" Walter pressed.
Walter no longer dared to address Simon as a brother. The current Prince Simon was no longer soone who could be appeased with a few silver notes.
He was now a feudal lord with life-and-death authority over six cities. This change had happened gradually but unmistakably.
If the Goldwynd family had once looked down on Prince Simon, they now regarded him with a hint of wariness.
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