Craftsman

Before long, the kingdom's craftsman arrived at the restaurant where Richard was.

The food on the table had already been cleared away. Richard was spreading out a long scroll across it, rapidly drawing something with a Goose Feather Quill.

Edward stood nearby with a puzzled expression, not daring to interrupt. The craftsman had even less courage to do so. He obediently kept his head lowered and said nothing, only occasionally sneaking glances at the scroll Richard was drawing on. It seemed that Prince was sketching some kind of machine. It looked like a windmill, but far more complicated...

"Scratch, scratch, scratch..."

After a long while, Richard set down the Goose Feather Quill in his hand. He looked over what was on the scroll, nodded slightly, then turned to the craftsman who had been waiting beside him for some time.

The craftsman looked to be in his fifties, though he was actually only in his forties. Artisans did not have easy lives in this world. Even those employed by the royal palace were only slightly better off than serfs, and years of hard labor had made him appear much older.

His face was covered in wrinkles, his eyes deeply sunken, with heavy bags hanging beneath them. At that moment, he looked over nervously.

"Your name is Hans, right?" Richard asked.

"Uh, gulp... In answer to Prince, I... this lowly one is Hans," the craftsman hurriedly replied. He had not expected Prince to know his name so precisely, and there was surprise and... fear in his voice. After all, for a small person like him to be remembered by Prince was not necessarily a good thing.

Richard waved a hand and said directly, "Come take a look at this design I drew. Can you understand it?"

"Uh, yes." The craftsman quickly stepped closer. His gaze fell upon the scroll, and after carefully studying it for a few moments, he confirmed his earlier guess. He cautiously asked, "Th-this seems to be... a windmill, Prince?"

"That's right. It is indeed a windmill. Are you confident you can build it? You'll have five days at most," Richard said.

"Uh, this..." The craftsman hesitated. Looking at the design, he estimated the workload and said uncertainly, "I should be able to."

"Look more carefully before you answer. If there's anything you don't understand, ask me now and I'll explain it. Don't come to me later and tell me there are problems and you can't finish it," Richard said.

"Uh, yes, yes, yes." Beads of sweat could not help but emerge on the craftsman's face as he looked at the design again. His eyes flickered, and he suddenly realized that it did not seem as simple as he had first thought. At the very least, compared to an ordinary windmill, there were many parts he could not understand.

He hurriedly pointed at one spot. "Prince, this... this part... seems to have a problem. Aren't ordinary windmills mounted on a single pillar? Why is this windmill mounted like this...?"

Richard glanced at it and slowly said, "This is a rotating tower."

"A rotating tower?" The craftsman froze.

"Ordinary windmills can indeed be mounted on pillars. Their structure is simple and they are easy to make. But their drawback is that they cannot constantly adapt to the wind direction. They need to be manually adjusted, which is laborious and inefficient. But if it is built according to this design, with the windmill blades mounted on a dedicated rotating tower, the tower can automatically rotate around its central axis to face the wind. That way, wind power can be utilized to the greatest extent at every moment," Richard explained.

The craftsman's eyes widened in shock. "It... it can really work like that? But... but Prince, how is that possible? The wind... doesn't only come from one direction. It could come from any direction..."

"Because the rotating tower has this component." Richard tapped the design with a finger. "Behind the main blades is a Tail Fan set at a right angle to them, connected to a geared track along the edge of the rotating tower. So no matter which direction the wind comes from, as long as it blows over the Tail Fan, the Tail Fan will drive the rotating tower to turn, ensuring that the windmill's main blades always face into the wind."

After hearing this, the craftsman scratched his head, still not entirely understanding. But from Richard's words, he at least understood one thing: Prince was not talking nonsense. He truly understood it, and understood far more than he did.

In that case... The next moment, the craftsman drew a deep breath, found the next part he did not understand, and asked, "Then, Prince, this part here..."

"Uh, these two heavy balls that swing outward from the cantilever are a Centrifugal Governor. You don't need to know how it works. You only need to understand that it can automatically regulate the rotor's speed to adapt to different wind speeds."

"Uh, all right... Then, Prince, this rotor..."

"This?" Richard picked up the Goose Feather Quill and crossed out the corresponding section. "This part is rather complicated. You don't need to handle it; I'll do it myself. I'll use it to generate electricity through induction, and it requires artificial magnets. You can't make those yet."

"All right, then Prince, what about this part..."

"This is an improved crankshaft, used to transmit energy and drive the rotor. Pay attention to this part..."

"Then, Prince, here..."

"This is the part that stores electrical current. I'll handle it myself. You only need to leave space for it..."

"Then this..."

"..."

The craftsman and Richard spoke for more than an hour before they finally clarified every detail on the design. Wiping the sweat from his face, the craftsman said, "Prince, this windmill really seems rather difficult. I'm afraid five days..."

"Then you'll have a week," Richard said, his voice somewhat stern. "But no longer. My time is limited. It cannot be delayed."

"Uh, this..." The craftsman shrank back, not daring to refuse. He gritted his teeth and nodded. "All right, Prince. I will definitely finish it within a week."

"Good."

The craftsman left with the design. The next moment, Edward was about to say something when Richard looked at him first and ordered, "Edward, help me find some iron filings and rust powder."

"Huh?" Edward was taken aback and asked what he had wanted to say all along. "Prince, what exactly are you trying to do?"

"You'll know when the time comes," Richard said.

"Uh, all right." That answer was practically no answer at all. Edward shrugged, then turned and left helplessly as well.

By afternoon, the iron filings and rust powder had been delivered to Richard's Independent Laboratory.

Afternoon, Independent Laboratory.

The afternoon sunlight streamed in, brilliantly bright.

Richard looked at the several dozen jin of iron filings and rust powder on the experiment table and nodded in satisfaction. Though Edward's swordsmanship was mediocre, he was still capable when it came to getting things done.

According to Edward, the iron filings and rust powder together weighed more than 100 pounds. A pound was an Anglo-American unit of mass; one pound equaled 0.45359237 kilograms, or 0.9071847 jin. However, out of habit, whenever Richard heard anyone mention such Anglo-American units, he automatically converted them in his mind into the units he remembered.

One pound was roughly 0.9 jin, so more than 100 pounds came to more than 90 jin. That was indeed quite a lot.

As for why he needed so many iron filings and rust powder, the reason was simple—he was making a rotor for the windmill.

This was the most fundamental method Richard had decided upon, and also one that absolutely could not fail, for generating electricity.