Book 3, Chapter 11: The Artisans and Carpenter
“It’s like, well it’s saddle shaped.” I stood up at the head of a table in what I considered a conference room, miming the shape of the saddles I wanted them to create. The artisans and a carpenter. The problem was that their image of a saddle didn’t match mine. They wanted a saddle with four pegs standing up on it and I wanted something more like a seat.
“That’s not a saddle.”
“Well, no, but it’s like one. It’s bigger and can support more weight.”
“And you want this made out of wood?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever for?”
“Just as I said, to support more weight.” Tread had got me the right people alright. They just didn’t seem to get what I wanted them to get.
The carpenter finally spoke up, “My lady, it seems to me that this, uh, saddle of yours is itself going to add considerable weight to the horse’s back.”
“It doesn’t have to be super thick. It just has to be in the shape of a seat, so one can sit on it.”
“And you want those straps to fall off the front of it?”
“I want the stirrups to be supported by the wood, so that the rider can place their weight on them.”
“With respect, Your Highness, I don’t see how this will be better than the existing saddle. For one thing, it’ll be harder to steer the horse.”
I put my face into my hands. I could get the military guys to work out that bigger sticks were better, that a crossbow could offer greater firepower, but I couldn’t explain to these guys why stirrups were a good idea. Stirrups! “Alright, I see we’re not getting anywhere. Here’s what I’ll do. Make me the kind of saddle I’m outlining for you gentlemen, and whoever comes up with the best design, I’ll award gold and a barrel of wine, too.” I didn’t have sherry, these guys weren’t poet laureates, but maybe they would work for the future prospects of endless inebriation. “An entire barrel of wine.”
The carpenter eyed me, “How much gold?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at Tread, who shrugged, “A bagful.” Tread’s eyes went wide, shaking his head silently. “A little pouchful, I mean. If the design works, as much gold as you can fit into one hand. I’ll dump it onto your hand myself.”
The carpenter stood, “In that case, excuse me Your Highness . . . I’ll be off.” He hurried out of the room.
The artisans looked at each other. One of them stood, the other rushed to stand, “I, too, have to go and work on . . . designs. Your Highness!” They rushed out of the room.
“Well Tread, that seemed to have worked. I should have tried that with the saddle maker.”
“The saddle maker doesn’t know how to shape wood.”
“You have a point there.” I rubbed my eyes. It was tough work getting everyone to agree to my ideas. And they weren’t even my ideas. Stolen from another universe. Or from reality if this was a game. It didn’t seem to be stopping me. Copycat in a New Universe, level two!
That made me realize, I’d now been here for over three months. This girl’s body was no longer strange to me. I really was the princess. When did that happen?
“What’s next, Tread?”
“The jewelers.”
“Ah. Yeah. Did you manage to dig up anymore of those wizard irons?”
“I did find one set. From the jailer.”
I shuddered. After I’d, I don’t know, liberated the castle, and healed from my wounds, I did a tour of it, in its entirety. The dungeons were appalling on a level I’d never imagined. We set those free we could, I had the torture implementations destroyed. I guess Tread had to go down there to get these. In a magical universe, what horrors lived down there now?
“And after them?”
“The alchemist.”
“Oh, that’ll be a treat.”
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