Tyranny Of Steel Chapter 4: A New Day

Rays from the dawn pierced through the castle living quarters' windows, landing squarely on Berengar's face. The instant sunlight grazed his skin, he snapped awake from sleep. He propped himself up, kneading his shoulders, and unleashed a massive yawn, exhaustion from yesterday's training lingering. Actually, soreness gripped nearly his whole body. Still, it wouldn't stop him from his essential tasks.

Berengar hastily slipped into casual baggy garments and launched into his morning routine, pushing through more than an hour of exertion. Sweat drenched him upon returning to the castle, every muscle screaming in protest. It took a solid half-hour bath before he felt ready to tackle the day's duties.

This fresh demeanor stunned his family and the castle staff alike. Rising at dawn, training hard, devouring meat, and diving into domain politics—such habits were foreign to Berengar before. Since recovering from his fever, everyone around him saw a completely transformed man.

Such a view held some truth, with dual memory banks swirling in Berengar's head. He pondered whether he remained the original self, merely awakened by Julian's recollections and wisdom, or if Julian now piloted Berengar's form.

In the end, it scarcely signified; to him, he embodied Berengar von Kufstein, armed with visions from his brush with death to forge his family's territory into an industrial powerhouse. Immense time and labor lay ahead, yet he firmly believed it was his fate to propel the Barony of Kufstein into industrial glory.

Honestly, as the heir, his sway over the lands was minimal, and he couldn't endlessly deceive his father about the origins of these novel creations; the obstinate elder doubted his claims and sought out an expert to test the blueprints' viability. That specialist hadn't shown up yet. So Berengar focused on deepening his grasp of local governance.

The youthful noble chose to dine inside the castle library, poring over vital records of the Barony's fiscal past. Dismay hit him fast from the revelations. Though brimming with resources, the von Kufstein Barons had squandered the potential. He shook his head softly while shutting the ledger, musing inwardly.

'This is what happens when you leave a house of warriors to act as all-powerful administrators over a plot of land that is nearly 375 square miles in size and contains nearly 20,000 people.'

He understood their bind to medieval tools, yet in an iron-abundant area, investment in extraction stayed pitiful. The scant output got hawked as raw ore to major kingdom cities. Superior applications awaited those assets.

Subsistence farming propped up the economy; it screamed primitive feudalism. The closest settlement amounted to a mere farming hamlet devoid of real manufacturing. A throbbing headache brewed as he absorbed the sheer backwardness of his kin's holdings.

Right as a curse nearly escaped his lips, he caught sight of little sister Henrietta crouched behind a bookshelf, peeking at him from distance. A laugh nearly bubbled up seeing her gaze like a terrified bunny. Clearly, her big brother's recent shifts terrified the lass. Possession seemed a real fear in her mind.

Berengar sipped from his water cup, eyes glued to the ledgers. Once the girl believed herself unseen, he sighed deeply.

"Henrietta, I know you're there..."

His words made the little one jolt. Her brother—or whatever fiend might have seized his shell—had detected her. Panic surged; she bolted from the library in silence. Berengar chuckled watching her dash away; he could only speculate on her motives. Yet kid antics demanded no attention now.

Most of the day passed in the library as he delved into domain finances, crop and ore production, plus regional influences. Being minor nobility meant mighty overlords dominated his father. The von Kufsteins served straight under the von Habsburgs, sovereigns of the Duchy of Austria and County of Tyrol.

Clearly, Lambert—his younger brother—had been betrothed to a daughter from a Von Habsburg branch family, a massive honor for House von Kufstein. Curiously, despite being the elder sibling and a full-grown adult, Berengar stayed unmarried and without a fiancée. This was mostly because of worries about his fragile health and doubts on whether he could survive long enough to sire an heir.

Berengar wasn't fazed by this destiny; in his prior life, he'd utterly failed to land a girlfriend even in his late twenties. Without building real value, he'd flop at securing a wife here too. Still, he wasn't sweating it—once he packed on some muscle, bride-hunting would get way simpler. Just by looks, he was sure he could land a stunning woman, commoner or not.

That said, he seriously doubted his family would approve such a match. After all, feudal times meant nobles never wed peasants. Berengar shoved those thoughts aside for now. To pick his own bride, he'd first need power and a strong body to prove his recovery. Both goals felt distant from his present weakness.

Having spent most of the day reviewing the Realm's matters, he saw the sun had dipped below the horizon and figured it was prime time to check his father's verdict on the designs. His dad must have consulted an engineer by now. Surely one served under him.

The young lord shelved the books properly and exited the library, striding through the castle corridors until he arrived at his father's study door. He hadn't even raised his hand to knock when an ugly argument between three voices reached his ears—one unmistakably his father's.

"I don't care what fancy background Ser Ingbert has; I've worked in engineering for over thirty years, and these designs are brilliant! They'll work precisely as your son described, my liege!"

A scoff echoed after the old man's bold words, then a younger voice chimed in: "Sire, ignore this grumpy old commoner. He lacks the elite education I've obtained. I guarantee these are just childish doodles from a boy pretending to understand engineering."

From that remark alone, Berengar pegged the critic of the Bessemer converter as an idiot coasting on noble connections for his job. Thankfully, his father didn't let him down; after both engineers weighed in on the blueprints, he sighed deeply before flexing his command.

"Ser Ingbert, you're dismissed. I need to speak privately with my head engineer." Though Berengar couldn't see it, he imagined the idiot's twisted face and grinned smugly. Abruptly, the door flew open, putting him nose-to-nose with Ser Ingbert himself.

This guy was nearing thirty, sporting light brown hair tied in a ponytail and piercing green eyes. His doublet dripped with excessive finery, flaunting his riches. He was the spoiled brat Berengar had pictured perfectly. Spotting the boar-head ring on his finger, Berengar instantly knew who he faced.

Ingbert Heltzer was the offspring of one of Sieghard's knights. As suspected, he'd snagged his engineer spot purely through family ties. Even by this era's lax rules, Ingbert's engineering know-how was laughable. A cushy noble spawn like him never bothered studying hard enough to excel.

Upon spotting the youth he'd just trashed behind his back, Ingbert's expression soured. The baron's son eavesdropping on his rude words was his worst nightmare. But the harm was irreversible, and Berengar simply stared at him like the fool he was.

Ingbert raged off in fury, and then Berengar heard his father's commanding tone from inside.

"Enter."

The seasoned Baron had clearly known his son lurked outside the door all along. Stepping into the study, Berengar faced piercing stares from his father and a grizzled man in his late fifties—the Barony's chief engineer.

Under the intense glares of these two powerhouses, Berengar couldn't shake the anxiety, feeling like a scolding loomed...