CHAPTER 78: GROWING SUCCESS

Marcus woke eager to see if his mushroom cultivation plans would actually work. The work day in the modern world had been boring, but they'd started showing really valuable things in the security class. Advanced threat assessment, emergency protocols, things that might actually matter when facing mind-controlling wizards. Or so he hoped. He was hoping Sara could take care of Palwin while he focused on proving himself to Lord Hammond.

He headed out to Lord Hammond's district, marveling at the transformation that had taken place in just days. What had been empty forest outside Drakmoor's walls was now a bustling construction site. Hundreds of refugees worked with military precision, turning raw wilderness into a functioning settlement. The sound of axes rang through the morning air as teams felled trees with practiced efficiency. Others stripped bark and shaped logs with tools that gleamed in the early sunlight.

The speed was remarkable. Marcus watched as foundations for permanent buildings took shape alongside the temporary structures. Women worked alongside men, children carried water and supplies, and even the elderly found tasks suited to their abilities. This wasn't just survival anymore. This was a community building itself from nothing.

Captain Bush had organized the work with military efficiency. Teams rotated between different tasks, preventing exhaustion while maintaining steady progress. Marcus could see why Lord Hammond trusted him with such responsibility.

Marcus found the mushroom cultivation area at the settlement's edge, where the farmers had built the pasteurizing pool exactly to his specifications. The clay lined basin was large enough to hold dozens of straw filled cloth bags, with a secondary chamber for the boiling water. Stone channels would direct steam through iron pipes into the main pool, creating the controlled heat needed to kill harmful bacteria while preserving the beneficial microorganisms.

"The precision is incredible," Marcus said, running his hands along the smooth clay surfaces. "This is better than I hoped for."

Captain Bush beamed with pride. "My boys know their craft. We've built grain storage systems before, but never anything quite like this."

Marcus and the farmers began the delicate process of filling cloth bags with straw. Each bag had to be packed just right. Too loose, and the steam wouldn't penetrate evenly. Too tight, and the mushroom spawn wouldn't have room to spread. Marcus demonstrated the proper technique, showing how to layer the straw in consistent patterns.

"Feel the density," he explained to a farmer named Henrik. "It should give slightly when you press, but spring back into shape. Like a firm pillow."

Bush nodded, practicing the motion. "How did you learn this, young master? I've farmed all my life, but never heard of growing mushrooms this way."

Marcus chose his words carefully. "I studied with a... foreign expert. Someone who understood how to control growing conditions precisely. How about steel pipes Captain Bush?"

"Our blacksmith's apprentice already started molding the pipes. I visited his workshop myself. Don't worry about the quality," Captain Bush assured him.

While Marcus was explaining how the steam circulation would work, a scrawny teenager approached with a cart carrying perfectly crafted iron pipes. Marcus examined them closely, amazed by the workmanship. Each pipe was precisely measured, with joints that fit together seamlessly. The metal was smooth and even, without the rough edges or inconsistent thickness he'd expected from medieval craftsmanship.

"Captain, all finished. You can put it together, right?" the boy asked, wiping sweat from his forehead with a cloth that was already black with soot.

"What's your name?" Marcus asked, studying the apprentice more closely. The boy couldn't be older than seventeen, but his hands showed the calluses and burn scars of someone who'd spent years working metal.

"Temir, sir. Temir Ironwright."

"These pipes are exceptional work, Temir. The tolerances are perfect." Marcus tested the joints, finding them tight but workable. "Can you make smaller, more intricate pieces? Complex mechanisms with moving parts?"

Temir's eyes lit up with interest. "I can make anything you can draw, sir. Master Gareth says I have the best hands he's ever taught. Show me the design, and I'll find a way to forge it."

Marcus felt excitement building. This could be exactly what he needed for his sewing machine designs. "Would you be interested in some unusual projects? Things that haven't been made before?"

"That sounds like the best kind of challenge, sir."

Marcus promised him a visit, already planning how to explain his textile manufacturing ideas. This could be the breakthrough that would revolutionize Valdris's economy.

The pasteurization process required careful timing and temperature control. Marcus supervised as they arranged the straw-filled bags in the clay pool, ensuring proper spacing for steam circulation. Then came the critical part: lighting the fires under the secondary chamber and monitoring the steam production.

"The water needs to stay just below boiling," Marcus explained to Captain Bush and his crew. "Too hot, and we kill everything. Too cool, and the harmful bacteria survive. Feel the steam coming through the pipes. It should be hot enough to make you pull your hand away quickly, but not so hot it burns."

Captain Bush tested the temperature with practiced caution. "Like the steam from our field kitchens when we're cooking for the whole company."

"Exactly. Now, once we get the right temperature, we maintain it for four hours. No more, no less. Add water to keep the steam steady, but don't let the temperature spike."

Marcus walked the farmers through every detail of the process. How to read the steam patterns, how to adjust the fire intensity, how to recognize when something was going wrong. He assigned specific roles to each person, creating a system that could continue without his constant supervision.

"After four hours, bank the fires and let everything cool naturally. Don't lift the cover, don't add cold water, don't try to speed the process. The bags need to cool slowly and evenly. Tomorrow morning, I'll show you how to inoculate them with the mushroom spawn."

With the pasteurization process underway, Marcus headed back to his business, eager to share the discovery about Temir and the progress at the mushroom farm.

When he arrived at their market stall, he found Sara and Palwin working in perfect synchronization. Their printing operation had reached a new level of efficiency. Sara would call out instructions for paper placement, ink mixing, or press adjustments, and Palwin would execute them with mechanical precision. The quality of their work had improved dramatically too. Lines were straighter, colors more consistent, text properly aligned.

"Look at this," Sara said, holding up a freshly printed advertisement. "Perfect registration, even ink coverage, no smudging. She's better than any printing assistant I've ever seen."

"Better than me?" Marcus askes jokingly.

"Much better"

Marcus watched Palwin work for a moment, noting how she'd internalized Sara's rhythm and preferences. She anticipated needs before Sara voiced them, adjusting the press tension or preparing the next sheet of paper without being asked.

Aldric approached with a satisfied expression and a leather folder full of documents. "Marcus! I have excellent news. I secured a lease on Owen's warehouse and the shop next to it. Also solved the guild related problems."

"How did you manage all that?" Marcus asked, genuinely impressed. The guild situation had seemed impossible just days ago.

"Well, first I had to understand the new political landscape," Aldric said, settling into his chair and organizing his papers. "After Lord Varek was imprisoned, the guild leadership panicked. They'd lost their primary political patron and their protection at the palace."

Sara looked up from her work, interested despite herself. "So they're vulnerable now?"

"More than vulnerable. They're desperate," Aldric continued. "I spoke with Master Cornelius from the Merchant's Guild. Turns out they're facing massive pressure from the Crown. The King is looking for scapegoats for the supply shortages, and the guilds are convenient targets."

"I heard the commerce guild head got caught embezzling guild members' capital," Sara added, not looking up from her work but clearly listening to every word.

"That's exactly right," Aldric confirmed. "Master Henrick was skimming profits from the shared warehouses. When the auditors went through the books after Varek's arrest, they found months of missing payments. The guild members are furious, and the Crown is threatening to revoke their charter entirely."

Marcus leaned forward, fascinated by the complex politics. "So how does that help us?"

"They leave us alone. No harassment, no attempts to force us to join, no restrictions on our operations."

"How much warehouse and shop lease cost us?" Marcsu asked.

"I offered to take over both the warehouse lease and the adjacent shop. Owen gets steady payments through our earning not exceeding twenty silver a month."

Marcus felt a wave of admiration for his partner. While he'd been focused on the technical challenges of mushroom cultivation and textile manufacturing, Aldric had been solving the political and financial obstacles that could have destroyed their entire operation.

"What about the terms?" Marcus asked.

"Two-year lease with an option to purchase," Aldric said, producing a contract from his folder. "The warehouse is perfect for our production operation once you prove the concept. The shop can become our permanent printing facility, plus space for whatever other ventures you're planning."

They talked about city gossip while continuing their work, but Marcus found himself paying more attention to the subtle changes in Drakmoor's social dynamics. With Lord Varek gone and the guilds weakened, new opportunities were opening for ambitious refugees like themselves. But it also meant new uncertainties. Power vacuums didn't stay empty for long.

"Have you heard anything about the King's new advisors?" Marcus asked.

"Some interesting developments there," Aldric replied. "Sister Korra has been promoted to the inner council. Apparently, her insights during your trial impressed His Majesty."

"Yeah I heard that too" Marcus added.

Marcus felt relieved. Sister Korra understood the real threats facing the kingdom. Having her voice in the King's ear could make all the difference when it came time to present his larger plans for agricultural reform and military preparation.

Marcus watched Palwin working alongside Sara, noting the subtle improvements in her behavior. She was learning to anticipate not just Sara's direct commands, but the broader patterns of their work. When a customer approached, she would automatically pause her printing and organize the samples for display. When the ink ran low, she would begin preparing a new batch before Sara noticed the shortage.

"How is she really working out?" Marcus asked Sara quietly during a brief break.

"She's remarkable for repetitive tasks," Sara replied, glancing over at Palwin, who was methodically cleaning ink from the press components. "Just tell her exactly what to do, and she does it flawlessly. No shortcuts, no creative interpretations, no mistakes. It's actually quite restful after dealing with my cousins."

Marcus nodded, understanding what Sara meant. Her cousins were enthusiastic but easily distracted, sometimes rushing through tasks or trying to "improve" processes in ways that caused more problems than they solved.

"But Marcus, you need to teach her more independence," Sara continued. "She can't function without constant commands. Watch this." Sara stepped away from the printing area and waited. After a few moments, Palwin stopped working entirely and stood motionless, staring at the press.

"Palwin," Sara called, "continue printing the handbills."

Immediately, Palwin resumed work, her movements smooth and efficient.

"See? She can't make decisions on her own. Even simple ones, like whether to keep working when I'm not giving active instructions."

Marcus understood the challenge. How do you train someone who's spent their entire life in a group mind to think and act independently? On her home planet, individual decision making had probably been unnecessary or even discouraged.

"Sara, I need you to keep working with her. You're better at giving clear directions than I am, and she responds well to your teaching style."

"Of course. But what about your mysterious blacksmith search?"

"I think I found him. Or rather, his apprentice." Marcus described his encounter with Temir, the quality of his work, and his apparent eagerness for challenging projects.

"You're planning to show him your sewing machine designs?"

"Tomorrow, if possible. Temir seems to have both the skill and the curiosity needed for advanced mechanical work. If he can create the precision components we need, we could start small-scale textile production within weeks."

Sara's eyes lit up with excitement. "Finally! I've been wanting to work on something more complex than printing presses and advertising layouts. Or mushroom grains."

Marcus felt the pieces of his plan coming together in ways he hadn't even anticipated. The mushroom cultivation was progressing ahead of schedule. The business partnerships were stronger than ever. Palwin was adapting to life in Valdris better than he'd hoped. Political obstacles were being removed rather than multiplying. And now he had both the workspace and the craftsman needed for his textile revolution.

For the first time since Celestine had dropped this responsibility on him, Marcus felt like he might actually be able to handle it. The immediate challenges were being met. The foundational work was progressing. The team was strengthening.

But deep down, he knew the real challenges were still ahead. Growing mushrooms and building sewing machines was one thing. Preparing to face Malachar's mind control powers and infiltrate his most important facilities was something else entirely.

Still, it was progress. Measurable, significant progress. And in both worlds, Marcus was learning that progress, however small, was worth celebrating.