The eastern beach of Jola Island stretched out in a dazzling orange hue, its golden sands glimmering under the sun’s relentless heat. Amid the serene sounds of waves brushing against the shore, a small blanket of shade stood out: two chairs and a table nestled under an umbrella made of expensive, tightly woven cotton. Beneath its shadow sat Ravenna and Marie, observing the scene before them—a group of workers laboring diligently on a two-storied test structure made of cement.

  At another corner of the beach, fishermen hauled up seabed soil from the ocean. Unlike their usual routine of farming with it, the soil was being carefully packed into neat wooden boxes by blacksmiths, who worked with precision under Nille’s watchful eye.

  Nille approached Ravenna with an uneasy expression, his heavy boots crunching over the sand. “Your Highness,” he began hesitantly, “do you really think this will work? We’re trying to make iron out of sand here... this feels like chasing for the impossible.”

  From beneath the shade of the umbrella, Ravenna tilted her head, her sharp gaze piercing through Nille’s doubt. “Do I look like an idiot to you, Nille?” she asked, her voice calm yet laced with authority. “This is only the first experiment. Now, get to work.”

  Defeated but compliant, Nille gave a curt nod and turned back to bark instructions at the blacksmiths.

  Marie, sitting quietly beside Ravenna, had been observing the exchange with growing curiosity. Finally, she mustered the courage to ask, “Master, are we really making iron out of sand? Is that even possible?”

  Ravenna turned toward the girl, a faint smile curling her lips. It was clear that Marie was slowly shedding her life of slavery and embracing a more normal existence. “You’re quite the curious girl, aren’t you?” Ravenna said, her tone softening.

  Picking up a glass of lemon juice from the table, Ravenna took a refreshing sip before continuing. “I explained this to Nille last night, but it seems he’s still plagued by doubt. The seabed soil from this beach, normally used for farming has an unusually high concentration of iron particles. I suspect we’re sitting near a large deposit of black sand.”

  Marie tilted her head, intrigued. “Black sand? What’s that?”

  Ravenna handed her a cookie from the plate on the table. “Black sand,” she explained, “is a type of sand rich in iron and other heavy minerals. It’s usually found near areas of volcanic activity.”

  Marie bit into the cookie, her muffled voice chiming, “Hwoh tha’ hewp ush?”

  Ravenna chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said patiently. “Black sand has a higher concentration of iron particles, which makes it an ideal source for forging when traditional resources are scarce.”

  Marie quickly swallowed her bite and asked, “So, are we using that sand to make iron? Does that really work?”

  Ravenna’s eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and confidence. “We won’t know until we try,” she said simply, her gaze drifting back to the workers constructing the test building.

  Marie, seemingly satisfied with the answer, resumed nibbling on another cookie. She opened a book she had been studying, a primer on reading comprehension and began jotting down notes. Suddenly, she looked up, curiosity reignited. “But how did you even know there was so much iron in the sand?”

  Ravenna reached over and gently patted Marie’s head. “Let’s just say it was an educated guess,” she said, though her mind replayed the events that had led to this discovery.

  A week ago, The geological scan had revealed high levels of iron in the area’s underwater sand. Initially, Ravenna hadn’t thought much of it. But after delving into researching online, she had learned that ancient Japanese smiths and certain regions of China had historically used black sand to forge steel during times of scarcity. Inspired, she had spent days investigating and confirming the feasibility of the idea. The scans had indicated that the black sand deposits around a few meters from the island were abundant, with the eastern beach being the shallowest and most accessible location to start the experiment.

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  The workers continued their efforts under the blazing sun, while Ravenna’s thoughts were momentarily interrupted by Marie’s voice. “Master,” she began, “about today’s combat training...”

  Ravenna glanced at her with interest. “How did it go?”

  Marie smiled sheepishly. “Master Dame Aisha said I might not be suited for swordsmanship. She thinks I’d be better off with a long-range weapon, like a bow or crossbow.”

  Ravenna frowned slightly. “What does she mean by that?”

  “She said I lack the instincts for close combat but have good focus and precision,” Marie explained. “She thinks I’ll learn faster with a weapon I’m more naturally inclined to.”

  Ravenna nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Focus on your strengths, then. Keep at it.”

  Marie beamed at the encouragement and returned to her book, scribbling notes with renewed determination.

  As the sun dipped closer to the horizon, casting golden light over the beach, Nille returned with a few workers carrying the packed boxes of seabed soil. “Your Highness,” he said, gesturing to the boxes, “is this all we need? Are we supposed to use the lodestones now?”

  Ravenna stood, her chair scraping softly against the sand. She glanced at Marie, a playful glint in her eye. “Come on, Marie,” she said. “This will be fun.”

  Marie quickly closed her book and stood up, her excitement barely contained. Two maids approached, holding umbrellas to shield them from the remaining sunlight as they walked toward the blacksmiths. The rhythmic sound of waves, the clinking of tools, and the hum of distant conversations filled the air as the experiment to forge iron from black sand began.

  As they approached the group of blacksmiths, Nille stood ready with the lodestones and a setup that had been meticulously crafted over the past night. The main apparatus consisted of a large, drum-like structure connected to the island's waterwheel. The wheel, powered by the flowing stream, turned the drum, causing the lodestones inside to rotate and generate a magnetic field. This, in theory, would draw out the iron particles hidden within the black sand.

  Ravenna gestured toward the setup, her voice calm but firm. “Watch closely, Marie. This is where theory meets reality.”

  Marie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she observed the lodestones at work. The drum spun, and the lodestones began attracting tiny flecks of metal—iron filings, to be exact. The black sand’s grains shimmered as the magnetic field separated the iron particles from the rest of the material.

  “Master,” Marie chimed in, her tone eager, “what are these? and why are they so concentrated here?”

  Ravenna smiled at her student’s quick observation. “Normally, iron fillings are scattered in trace amounts in sand. But this particular sand has an unusually high concentration, likely due to underwater volcanic activity that created these black sand deposits rich in iron.”

  Marie tilted her head in wonder. “It’s like nature hid treasure right beneath our feet!”

  Nille, who had been observing the process with a skeptical eye, finally spoke, his tone tinged with awe. “Your Highness, this might actually work. I didn’t expect the lodestones to pull so much material.”

  Ravenna gave him a knowing look. “Does this clear your doubts, Nille?”

  The blacksmith gulped, his pride momentarily dented. “Yes, Your Highness. I can see now that there’s real potential here.”

  With the iron filings collected, the next step began. The blacksmiths carefully washed the gathered material, separating the remaining sand and impurities. The clean filings were then poured into a custom-designed blast furnace. The furnace, also connected to the waterwheel, utilized a mechanical hammer powered by the wheel. This innovation reduced the physical labor required and allowed for consistent, precise strikes to purify the molten metal.

  As the furnace roared to life, glowing embers illuminated the beach. Nille and the blacksmiths worked with practiced efficiency, their hammers rhythmically striking the heated iron to remove the last traces of impurities. Ravenna watched the process with a sense of satisfaction, her sharp eyes taking in every detail.

  “It’s a simple yet effective design,” Ravenna remarked, her tone carrying a hint of pride. “The waterwheel’s energy isn’t just powering the magnetic drum but also the furnace’s hammer. This reduces labor and ensures uniform results.”

  Marie nodded, entranced by the synergy of human ingenuity and nature’s bounty. “It’s amazing, Master. We’re turning sand into something so valuable.”

  Hours later, the molten metal was allowed to cool, solidifying into a gleaming black bar. Nille approached the finished product, his hands trembling slightly as he examined it. He tapped it with a practiced ear and nodded in approval.

  “It’s iron,” he said, his voice reverent. “And not just iron—this looks like it’s of excellent quality. Your Highness, this could change everything.”

  Ravenna smiled, pleased but not surprised. “Good work, everyone. This is only the beginning. With this method, we can produce iron locally, strengthening our position and reducing our reliance on trade.”

  As the blacksmiths cheered softly in relief and pride, Marie looked up at Ravenna, her admiration evident. “Master, you really are amazing. How did you think of all this?”

  Ravenna ruffled Marie’s hair gently, her gaze softening. “The land speaks if you know how to listen, Marie. And sometimes, the answers are hidden in history, waiting to be rediscovered.”

  Ravenna decided to put up an act of a wise princess for her disciple as the beach, bathed in moonlight now, seemed to hum with the promise of progress.