Winter Days III

“What are they building again?” Tevron asked, coming up beside you as you watched a building being put together. They were only really just working on the foundations at this point. Especially since they needed culpters to make the marble columns.

“A school” you reply, folding your arms inside of your cloak. Winter in the south of Italy wasn’t a dramatically cold affair. The majority of folk merely switched to woolen garments, a few, such as yourself, going with just a woolen cloak to protect against the cold. There was, however, one drawback to everyone switching to winter clothing. Roman dyes don’t take well to woolen garments, and so what colour there was in the world, had been drowned in a sea of bleached whites, drab greys, and the few dark, earthy hues that Roman dye works could work with.

“A school?” Tevron asked, a frown on his face.

“Yeah, a public school” you reply “Though finding teachers is going to be an interesting challenge” you add.

“What sort of things will be taught in this school of yours?” Tevron asked, still frowning.

“Simple” you reply “Maths, reading, writing, some sciences, and history” you say “Oh, and exercise routines and what have you, gotta make sure the future is healthy” you add.

“Yes . . . I bet you would” Tevron muttered. You give the man a glance out of the corner of your eye before turning back to the construction works.

****

You watch with interest as a somewhat surprising invention is revealed to you.

“So you see, that’s how it works” said an aging blacksmith. He had just been describing how his ‘power hammer’ worked. The process was remarkably simple; a gear that was turned by a handle, that would work several more gears to apply pressure to a piston, that would work a larger-than-usual sledge hammer. The assistant that was demonstrating this process to you had managed to get the speed of the hammer up to the point where it was like two or three people hammering away at once. Though you did notice the poor boy was really straining to do so.

“How did you come to this . . . unique . . . invention?” you ask, giving the offending piece of technology a queer look.

“Well, ya see, I walked in on me wife one day spinnin’ some cloth” the man began “only she wasn’t using the usual methods, no she had herself some kinda wheel device!” he told you before tapping the boy on the shoulder and stopping him. “I took a good look at it and it was remarkably simple, gently tap a pedal and the wheel spins almost on its own” he said as the two of you watched the ‘power hammer’ wind itself down. “‘Spose now all this needs names” the smith said, tucking his thumbs into his belt.

“Well, those toothed discs there . . . gears for big ones? Cogs for small ones?” you suggest. The smith, however, just shrugged. “You do realise this could revolutionise . . . a whole lot?” you ask the man.

“More than likely, could be why I’m showin’ ya” the man said, turning to give you a wink. You snort in amusement before turning to look at the power hammer, and all the various bits of science fantasy you can come up with using gears, cogs, and hand cranks.

****

“Here you are miss,” said a kindly young man as he handed you a wedge of bread with some soft cheese on top.

“Thank you,” you reply, taking the snack and taking an immediate bite. The only thing that could make this better would have been a cup of coffee, or even a cup of tea.

A gust of wind blew through the eatery you are in, forcing you to draw your half-cloak tighter around you for a second. The garment’s design was actually a new one to the Roman people around you, most everyone simply wore thicker dresses that covered the arms or some poncho type cloak. There were also plenty of regular cloaks, the ones where you fasten them at the throat with a clasp but still. A downside of being female, apparently, was that the cold bit a little more and, while it was certainly not cold enough to snow, the wind still had a bite.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before” came a voice you are very familiar with. You turn your head in the direction of the voice and looked up . . . and up and up and up and up, until finally your eyes reached the peak of Mount Dumont. “Yes, I’m tall,” Dumont said with a chuckle, helping himself to a seat opposite you. “My name is Dumont, might I have the honor of knowing yours my lady?” Dumont said and you just had to stop and stare at him for a minute. That man was a sweet talker with words that slithered into your ears like sweetened cream.

“Augustina” you reply after a moment, “nice to meet you” you add, a little awkwardly. Dumont laughed, possibly at your reaction though if you were in his shoes it would have probably been at the adorable display you had just accidentally put on. You can’t help but blush as you thought this, silently cursing your weird, altered mental state.

“Well, Augustina, would you mind horribly if I took this time to get to know you a little better?” Dumont asked, an easy going smile settling onto his face. You sucked in a breath as you realised he was turning your little lunch break into an impromptu date. You then swallowed nervously as you realised this was basically a date.

“No?” you said/asked in a quiet voice, silently cursing your altered mental state once more. Dumont sat up straighter, looked you directly in the eye and gave you a smile that tickled your brainstem and put flutters in your chest.

“Then tell me about yourself” he suggested, giving you a look that said he’d pay attention to every word. You are not surprised the man is very good at getting women into his bed.