Solitaire POV: Day 61

Current Wealth: 2 gold 17 silver 41 copper

I was pleasantly surprised to find Argar and Helena had done most of the shit-shovelling when I arrived at my new laboratory. Really, the entire conversation I’d had when Beam approached me to explain the situation before I went inside was an emotional rollercoaster. Rage, first, upon hearing about the state inside, then relief upon finding out that it was being taken care of already. Finally a certain pragmatic satisfaction. I’d be needing shit, after all, and having some gathered already was convenient if nothing else.

The sight of Helena, rather attractive woman that she was, disgusting herself with the work of moving it around was just icing on the cake. But I moved past that quickly, sadly far too busy to indulge my lust.

By the time I’d gotten back the job was mostly done already, and Xangô had set off on a shopping trip. I found that much out from Helena, who’d accompanied him on his other outing to find us some work. Obviously having my interest piqued by that fact, I asked her for more details.

There was work in Elswick, as we’d hoped, and there was more of it than in anywhere we’d yet been. The city had been having some issues with locals. Nothing major, really, nothing awful. Just a few thousand tribal orcs causing trouble for the humans with raiding parties. I grinned.

Where there was conflict, there was money to be made for resolving it, and orcs were tough. Bigger than humans, taller, stronger by far. Helena told me how their menace had been growing more intense, not less, over the months since it really started, and I believed her. This was a problem that could continue pricking the city’s nobility for some time, which meant it was an excellent source of revenue for us.

But I was getting ahead of myself, we needed actual killing ability first. Magic was nice and all, but it was a slow process to actually learn it. Biggest prodigy in history and, so far, I was just about capable of simulating the effects of a flickering lightbulb. That wouldn’t be the most effective weapon against a giant, grey-skinned barbarian, so we’d need to look into other directions. Fortunately Xangô was back soon after we finished shovelling the mess out of the warehouse, carrying with him all my heart could desire.

Big vials and mixing glasses, an alembic, mortar and pestles, mixing buckets and other things. We’d discussed the equipment I might need on our way to the city of course, and, although a lot of mediaeval alchemy was complete bullshit, a good portion of the things devised to help mix materials for it were pretty on point.

I wouldn’t be trying to turn my piss into gold, though. That would be absurd. Why do that when I could turn shit into gunpowder? That was where the money was at.

Well, the black powder was just step 1, in any case. It wouldn’t do us too much good on its own, but there were plenty of ways to mitigate its natural disadvantages.

Shrapnel was one, sort of. The use of ball bearings or other solid projectile fillings in explosive devices goes back centuries, but there’s a major fundamental issue with it when using black powder. Namely; black powder is weak as shit. If you want enough for a decent sized explosive, it gets heavy fast, and I wasn’t entirely certain about where the magic balance between ineffectual weakness and enough weight that I couldn’t throw it far enough to not be in the kill radius lay. It would be an interesting thing to experiment with, but later, there were more productive things of more immediate value.

We set off while the shit was boiling- not actually a sentence that has ever been stranger to my vocabulary, mind- and headed for a smith. It wasn’t particularly hard to find one nearby, our warehouse, like most, was in the city’s “industrial sector”, or it would’ve been if the city weren’t owned by mud people who hadn’t even discovered industry yet. Either way, finding an apeman who was good at folding metal didn’t take us long.

The shop was a small thing, as were almost all others in Redacle, and we were assailed by a blast of hot air and iron-scented winds as we entered. It was cramped inside, metal tools and fittings hanging from every surface, save for a single space near the centre. About twenty square metres had been cleared out, there, and were occupied only by three things. Smithing equipment that was affixed to the ground or walls, a screaming-hot lump of metal, and a big, broad-shouldered man using both.

We watched for a few moments, seeing how he bullied the metal into shape with remarkable speed. I glanced at Xangô, and wasn’t surprised when he nodded, silently mouthing the words “level 8” to me.

That made sense. Redacle, in the books, had had such things as legendarily forged weapons capable of cutting through chainmail like…Well, like the Valyrian Steel we’d directly ripped off from A Song of Ice and Fire. There’d always been smiths and craftsmen of supernatural skill just as there’d always been warriors of superhuman strength, it seemed the mysterious system we were gaming reflected that with greater-than-1 levels.

I cleared my throat to get the man’s attention, and he replied without so much as glancing up.

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“Not now.” The man answered. “Need to finish this piece before it cools again, first heating is best for flexibility.”

Slightly put out, I nonetheless kept quiet while I waited for him to finish. It didn’t take more than a minute or two, thankfully, and by the time the man was done I just felt even more hopeful that he’d actually comprehend my design.

“Now, what do you want?” The man asked. I took a step forward, taking the lead, now. Xangô was good at fucking people over like a politician, sure, but when it came to matters of matter and maths, I didn’t trust anyone alive more than myself.

“We need you to make something for us.” I replied. “Obviously. Thing is, it’s something advanced, too. The reward you’ll get for doing so is a design you can use yourself however you’d like, to sell or show off or shove up your ass if you want. But the first thing is just for us.”

He didn’t look impressed. Doubtless, plenty of people tried to sway one another with impossible offers all the time here. God knew they did enough of that back on earth.

“What’s the request?” He asked. “And what design would I be paid with?”

“The design is for a sort of shifting mechanism designed to move an object and substance from one cylinder to another.” I explained. “If you accept it I can draw it out for you on some paper. Your payment will be the designs for a repeating crossbow capable of firing thirty times in a minute.”

I could see I had him enticed, at that, and the man was careful in swallowing before replying. Obviously he was sharp enough to at least attempt to hide his eagerness, which probably made him sharp enough not to be convinced yet.

“How can something like that work?” He challenged. I shrugged.

“Oh it’s obvious really, mostly it uses gravity, would you like to see?”

The man hesitated, thought, came close to saying something before pausing. Then sighed and nodded. “Show me.”

He gave me parchment, gave me a quill, and gave me one chance to draw it all out. Fortunately I used it well enough.

Now, being clear, I actually had no idea how to build a repeating crossbow, I knew they’d been used largely in China and I knew what their approximate rate of fire was but that was about it. Fortunately, it’s not actually that difficult to work out how something would’ve worked provided you know a few key details about its shape and function.

I knew, for example, that the Chinese version I was thinking of had a big box on top of it, which was my clue that gravity was used to load it. From there I just thought about the most logical and efficient ways to have the bowstring draw itself, to keep jams from occurring, to make it easy and smoothe to detach one magazine for another. I thought as I drew, and continued drawing even as my hand started to throb from the pressure of carving lines across tough animal hide.

By the time I was done, the blacksmith looked quite impressed, which impressed me in turn. He must’ve been piecing together the design as it came to be, reading over my shoulder. That was a good sign that he was good at his job.

“I could just take this knowledge and make the design myself.” He noted. “Now that you’ve shown it to me. Even try and recreate my own, what’s stopping me from doing that?”

I was ready for the question of course, ready, too, for him not asking it- which would’ve been a sure sign of his planning to do just that in secret.

“If you do that I’ll just share it with every other smith I meet in the city, and then every other city. You’ll lose the advantage of being first to produce it, and the only one to have hard schematics.”

He weighed me, then sighed.

“Alright, show me the second design.”

This one was a bit harder, but not too difficult. Lots of axis and shifting piston-mechanisms. I essentially needed to keep two separate cylinders to contain munitions, one for the actual solid projectiles, another for the powder. I ended up deciding on a design that worked- a sort of shifting chamber that would press open latches to let the contents of each spill into the main barrel- and drew it all out as clearly as I could manage.

Mr blacksmith wasn’t as impressed this time, but I hadn’t expected him to be. Even if he’d known what black powder was, which was doubtful, I’d be surprised if he was familiar with the idea of using it as a propellant. I might as well have showed him a smart phone for all his ability to comprehend.

“I can certainly make this.” He noted, with a frown. Clearly the poor bastard had been hoping for a simpler job. “Should take me…A week, perhaps.”

A week was a lot quicker than I’d been expecting, but I hid the fact. Evidently there were advantages to levelled craftsmen.

“Excellent.” I grinned. “My brother can work out the specifics of pay and delivery.” I gestured for Xangô to do his thing, and he did so.

We were moving back to our warehouse soon enough, finding Argar waiting outside- we had, of course, left the most advanced weapons’ manufactory in the country at least guarded while we were out. His face was a mask of worry as we neared, however, and I immediately hurried to him.

“The thing.” He gasped. “The thing you said would be happening in a few hours, it’s already happening now.”

I barged inside, and found that, sure enough, crystals were lining the boiling cauldron we’d left.

But that was wrong, it hadn’t been nearly long enough for potassium nitrate to crystalize, not long enough at all. And then I remembered that something had happened faster than anticipated last time, too.

My nasty, no-good terrible computer of a brain started churning away like always.