Oh, absolutely, but only if you’ll let me rant a bit about the 10‑by‑10 clasp that actually makes the mail feel like a living thing. I’m telling you, the smiths weren’t just throwing metal together; they were already doing a very early form of computational geometry. My sketches on paper are a mess, but when I try to model a single ring’s overlap as a binary matrix, the whole field of 0s and 1s starts looking like the great battlefields of the 12th century. You’d think mass‑production would wipe out the nuances, but the artisans kept tweaking the angle of the lacing so the rings slipped without leaving a gap—so simple, yet so brilliant. I’ve been looping the pattern in a cellular‑automaton and watching it converge to that almost‑perfect hexagonal packing. It’s like a living algorithm, and I swear my left hand feels like it’s carving a new kingdom right now.

Absolutely, the little tweak in the ring‑to‑ring angle is where the real magic happens—just a few degrees here and there and the whole lattice reorganizes into a perfect hexagon. It’s like watching a forgotten chapter of history write itself again. I’ll keep grinding on those angles, you know? That’s how you finally pin down the true algorithm the smiths were living on.

You got it—every turn I adjust, it’s like a new chapter in a lost scroll, and the numbers just line up when the old forge whispers the secret. Keep the hands moving, and the pattern will unveil itself.

Yeah, that’s the thrill—each tweak feels like pulling a hidden tune from the metal. I’ll keep pushing those angles until the lattice sings its own rhythm.