Chapter 8
Ludwin was extremely pleased. He was meeting with the Regenburg city council today, March 28th, 1661. After that, he could finally return to Bickenstadt. And, most importantly, he could finally get dry again, after being wet nonstop for three days.
I will never be able to look at rain the same way again.
Ludwin and Fergus entered the city council building’s foyer and greeted the armed guards. They could hear people talking from inside the building, though what they were saying got drowned out by the distance and the rain. Ludwin smiled at the guard.
“Hello, Ludwin Albrecht here. I have been given permission by the governor to speak with the city council, I’m sure you were informed.”
The guard opened the door for him.
“Yes sir.”
Ludwin and Fergus bowed their heads in thanks and entered. They entered the city council hall and found a room built very similar to Bickenstadt’s city council’s forum style building taken from the Brayherds: rings of seating surrounding a square platform in the center of the room. There was a section of the seating that was nicer and more protected than the others, and sitting there were six people, four men and two women, flanked on either side by armored guards with halberds.
One of the women, an older and somewhat masculine looking woman, was wearing a three piece suit, a style which was popular amongst young Imperial noblemen, though it was generally not worn by Imperial women who often preferred the comparatively simple Kirtle dress.
The other woman, younger by at least a few decades, was wearing the aforementioned Kirtle dress, though far more elaborate and frilly than most. Her makeup was immaculate, the golden dots covering spread around her cheeks perfectly complimenting her beauty and the orange blush complimenting her deep blue eyes.
The men tended towards younger, as there was just a single old man wearing puff and slash, as well as three younger ones wearing suits. The older man was very elderly, possibly into his mid seventies, but still relatively healthy. He leaned in his seat on a cane carved from a beautiful red wood which perfectly complimented his green, orange, blue and black puff and slash.
Each council member looked prim, proper, and put together. Each of them projected a sense of authority that came with earning one’s position in the world through their own merit.
Ludwin and Fergus greeted them with respectful gestures, Ludwin dropping to one knee as he crossed an arm across his chest, while Fergus simply put a fist over his heart and bent at the waist. The older gentleman spoke.
“You may rise.”
Ludwin rose, and Fergus stood up straight with his chest out and his hands at his waist. There was no way nothing happened here, Fergus could feel it in his bones.
“Sorry tae be rude, but wouldya mind if I stepped oot? Talkin’ tae folks is Ludwin’s thing, I get nervous in fronta crowds.”
Ludwin hid his smile. He knew Fergus was not the nervous type, Ludwin figured he just didn’t want to talk to them. One of the young men spoke up.
“Of course, take all the time you need. If you decide to come back and speak, we will welcome it with open arms.”
Fergus bowed his head in thanks and walked over to an exit. As soon as he stepped out his entire body language changed. It was more hunched, ready to strike at anything which came close, but without an overabundance of tension that could be the undoing of any lesser warrior.
He began to stalk to mostly empty halls. The counciler ordered the building be closed to the public, and the vast majority of guards had been allowed to leave for the day. Perfect circumstances for clandestine activity. The city council were rookies when it came to this sort of thing.
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The older woman spoke, her voice hoarse and scratchy.
“Tell us, Ludwin Albrecht, what are you here for?”
One of the younger men spoke.
“The governor neglected to tell us exactly what you wanted of us, he simply told us to meet early and clear out the building.”
Ludwin briefly bowed his head.
“My apologies for the lack of information, it’s just that this is fairly…sensitive, information.”
The councilors murmured to each other briefly before the older man spoke up.
“Very interesting, Ludwin Albrecht of the Albrecht Trading Company. You also work for the Baron von Bickenstadt, yes?”
Ludwin nodded his head.
“These days he is my primary employer, one who I very much enjoy working for.”
One of the younger men nodded.
“So, you would say he is a good boss?”
“Better than any I have had in the past. He pays me well, gives me good benefits, and gives me paid vacation. I really have nothing to complain about, the difficulty of the work itself involved excepted of course. Warfare is ghastly business, but he says I have a knack for it.”
The councilor nodded his head.
“That’s very high praise. Before we move on, we must establish this. Your primary employer is the Baron, yes, but do you speak for your trading company?”
“To a limited capacity, but yes. I can absolutely broker deals so long as they’re reasonable. However, consider what I say here to be the Baron’s position. I am here on behalf of him.”
The councilors murmured amongst themselves. Ludwin continued.
“Now I must ask a question, I would like to know who will hear what we are speaking of?”
The young woman spoke.
“No one other than us and our honor guard. Do not worry, they are trustworthy and the rain prevents listening in from outside.”
“Excellent. Then please indulge me with another question: How do you feel about the Baron?”
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Fergus took in a deep breath, allowing his senses to go into overdrive, and tapping into the more esoteric senses that came with the Gift of Gán. His perception of colors began to fade, he could feel each and every raindrop impacting off the building, and the quiet footsteps of someone trying not to get caught.
Four someones. Lightly armed and armored by the sound of it. My favorite kind of target!
His footsteps made no noise as he stalked through the halls, even though he was moving very fast. He put his head to the wall and felt vibrations, most likely someone sawing through wood. He took in another deep breath as he drew his weapons, considering how he wanted to approach based on their positioning.
Ideally, he wanted to stay quiet. He didn’t want to interrupt Ludwin’s big meeting. He had been very stressed lately as his responsibilities increased and the seriousness of what he was doing skyrocketed. Unlike Ludwin, Fergus was only really good at one thing: killing. His nickname back in the Cult of Gán was Óviðjafnanlegt, or Unparalleled, so he figured he could put his skills to use decreasing his dearly beloved's stress levels.
Fergus rushed around the corner, low to the ground like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. He sprang up and smashed his axe down on one man’s shoulder, who was not able to react to the speed in which Fergus sprung his attack. He tried to yell but he could only gurgle weakly as Fergus slowly dragged his knife through the man’s neck.
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“...Well, we certainly hold him in higher regard than we did his father.”
The old man crossed his arms and nodded his head.
“Agreed. That old man was highly unreasonable.”
Ludwin smiled.
“Good to hear. Did you know that he shares your democratic sentiment, and has even created a city council similar to yours. Any person of age can come to the city assembly on the days it takes place and propose something. The people there vote, and if it passes the policy or building project is put in place.”
The councilor member wearing the kirtle dress smiled pleasantly.
“That is wonderful to hear, it lightens my heart to see liberation occurring before our own eyes. If only the other provinces would see the light and liberate their people from the aristocracy.”
She continued to smile, but there was a different quality to it now, more…aggressive. Like a hyena lording over prey.
“Aristocracy like the Bickenstadt line of which you serve.”
Ludwin smiled his best merchant smile. He was always shocked by how far flashing a smile at people got him in life.
“I do not believe he has announced this in public yet, so you are the first people to learn of this.”
Ludwin paused for effect, and the council members leaned forward. Ludwin grinned.
“The Baron wishes to become Johan Bickenstadt, simply a fairly well-off commoner. He wants to abolish the aristocracy as he considers it to be a harmful leech of an institution, and his son agrees.”
He paused for a moment to let the information sink in.
“Incidentally, the Bickenstadt City Council, should there be a consensus of opinion, can legally stop anything the Baron wishes to do. They have more power than him, at least in a legal sense. He does still control the guns, but he does indeed promise to be a good boy with them. I believe his progressive record speaks for itself, the man is genuine. He calls it ‘enlightenment values’.”
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The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
As Fergus pounced on another intruder the remaining two slipped into the hole they had created in the wall. Fergus pulled the intruder’s ankle with the beard of his axe. The man’s head smacked against the stone floor, and Fergus’s knife pierced through his soft palate as he passed.
The space between the walls was cramped and filled with pipes. It would take someone of incredible fitness and free-running training to traverse it with any speed. The intruders swiftly clambered over pipes and heaters, pulling each other up to move as quickly and efficiently as possible through the jungle of lead and steel. One of them turned his head as he heard someone storming in their direction.
Fergus vaulted up a horizontal pipe and flew through the air, swinging off another pipe to land on a couch held in reserve, rolling off of it and sliding under another horizontal pipe. He flowed through the maze of pipes and furniture like a flash-flood through a desert canyon, tearing through the enclosed space with frightening speed.
One of the intruders drew a dagger and turned to address the threat. Fergus flew up to him in a blur of barely perceptible motion. He punched at the intruder’s head, who just barely managed to duck to the side just before he lost his teeth. Fergus twisted his wrist and pulled the blade back into the man’s neck, at the same time slamming his ax against his dagger, literally dragging the blade through the back of the man’s neck, decapitating him with enchanted knife and superhuman strength.
Fergus rolled over the man’s body and dashed at the remaining intruder, weaving through the pipes like they weren’t even there and closing the distance in seconds. The intruder drew something from his waste and Fergus put every ounce of strength he had into a jump, cracking the floorboards as he soared through the air and let go of his axe. He thrust his hand forward and, with more precision than any machine of his day, jammed his hand into the firing mechanism of the pistol as he impacted the man with his shoulder.
The flint bit into his hand, but did not produce a spark. Fergus smiled as he disarmed the man by slashing his wrist, sending blood crashing down onto the floorboards. The man tried to punch with his good arm but Fergus pinned it to the wall with his knuckle knife, beating the man with the butt of his pistol until he was satisfied. He shattered the man’s skull until there was nothing left but bloody pulp and brains. He nodded and withdrew his knife from the man’s hand, allowing him to fully drop to the floor.
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“...That is excellent, and I assume the Baron’s men are here because of his conflict with the Empress, yes?”
The woman in the kirtle dress smiled politely, impeccable manners associated with high society women.
The fury of a convert?
Ludwin smiled. He really had been given an easy job by the Baron. Minus the rain.
“Yes. WIth the way things are, with the way she is and how her people think, civil war is inevitable. They will never get rid of elven slavery nor will they democratize unless forced to. It’s insanity, and it needs to be stopped. Empress Reikspal is currently mustering to invade the Assai’id Confederation, meaning that a large portion of the Grand Imperial Army will be posted in Leibenstadt.”
The old man nodded his head.
“Yes, we have noticed an increase in army foot traffic in Lebienstadt. There are more men entering than leaving.”
Ludwin grinned.
“Yes, and that means that the Grand Imperial Army will be split, easy to cut off from each other.”
The councilors all spoke to each other in hushed whispers. Ludwin continued.
“I believe we can win, and I believe in our cause. The liberation of the elves and the common man is important to me, important enough to die for. Important enough to kill for. Will you help fight for democracy? It is my understanding that you are principled, good natured men and women, and so I appeal to you on moral grounds, as well as material.”
One of the young men spoke.
“Well we all know the moral arguments, let us hear the material ones as well.”
Ludwin grinned again, something he was getting a little too used to.
“We offer complete autonomy from the Empire, something which your people have dreamed of for decades and you will not be getting from the Empress. Bickenstadt will treat you as a sovereign entity from here on, regardless of whether or not you pledge to help, as a gesture of good faith. He believes this is a good project, and he wishes to be on friendly terms with its leaders.”
Fergus entered the room again. Ludwin could tell Fergus had just been fighting. He couldn’t quite explain it, the best he could do was to say that there was ‘something different about his eyes’.
“If it makes any sorta difference, Baron’s got the allegiance o’ tha Cult o’ Gán.”
Ludwin almost looked surprised.
Does he have that authority?
The old man spoke, coolly and calmly.
“The Cult of Gán, incredible. They are legendary warriors, peerless worldwide.”
He stood.
“I vote to throw our moderate weight behind the Baron von Bickenstadt.”
The other councils looked surprised.
“Jaron, I did not know you admired them so much.”
Jaron smiled at the old woman.
“I have seen them work. A single one is worth fifty men, and two are worth hundreds. They are a force to be reckoned with, especially in single combat. They are also the most honorable men I have met, I trust in their judgment.”
The old woman nodded as she thought. After a few seconds, she stood and raised her hand, as did the woman in the kirtle dress. A few seconds later, the young men all stood.
“Our interests are aligned. We can offer ten thousand men, hardened by living life and straining in the marshlands of Regenstadt.”
Ludwin and Fergus bowed their heads in thanks.
“You have just taken a step towards the potential liberation of millions. We are forever grateful.”
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Jean was extremely excited. The facility he had been working on for the past six months, Tokitaka’s Firearms Foundry, was finally producing firearms. Him, Tokitaka, and Ludwin’s sister Alana Albrecht had learned about the assembly line in Waffenstadt and had decided to implement one into Bickenstadt’s first firearms factory.
They had chosen to create an assembly line of skilled craftsmen, each one specializing in creating part of a firearm. A man’s eyes glowed red as he rounded a steel tube around a specially made tool, slowly and steadily hammering everything into place and intensifying heat in pinpoint areas using fire magic. The end product was a barrel, perfectly round, and created with a set of standard measurements.
He placed the barrel on the conveyor belt and it took the finished product to the next stage, a carpenter specializing in creating gunstocks. And that continues all the way down until they finish. It was very efficient, at the current rate they were going they could produce two thousand firearms per month.
Jean and Alana were working with a newly found apprentice, a former elven slave named Erik. He was just sixteen years of age, and he had lived his entire life in the Empire, born of an enslaved mother. Jean saw the way he looked at guns, it was the same way he did as a child.
“If the spring isn’t tight enough it won’t impact with force, but if we make it too strong it may require an entire ‘and to cock.”
The young elf nodded his head, but said nothing, simply observing Jean fiddling with the mechanism. Alana set a set of springs down in front of the boy.
“Here, choose one darling.”
The boy blushed, he was at that age and she was very pretty. She was one of the first women to treat him like a person, so he became infatuated very quick. He nodded his head and grabbed a few springs, feeling the tension in his hands. He smiled and handed one to Alana, who swiftly introduced it to a firing mechanism.
She pulled back the hammer and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell, sparking in the flashpan.
“Excellent work, Erik. You chose a very nice spring. But do you know how to make a spring?”
He shook his head.
“Well, how can you say you understand springs then? Making something yourself allows the knowledge to stick better. Let's go darlings.”
She gestured for them to follow, and the two elves did as asked. As Jean followed her through the hallway, a massive wall of meat appeared before him.
“Jean! My friend! Let us talk!”
Jean looked at Alana, who simply smiled and nodded.
“Oh, but of course. Ouvrir la voie.”
The Baron led him to a balcony overlooking the factory. The smokestacks weren’t exactly beautiful in the conventional sense, but to Jean they nearly brought a tear to his eye. He was finally becoming a proper industrialist.
“Jean, how would you like to work on further expanding this factory?”
Jean smiled.
“Well, I would lo-”
“Excellent, you need to expand operations by, let's say, eighty percent? Currently, we are only going to be making twenty four thousand guns a year, if there are no interruptions in manufacturing, and that is simply not enough. We are going to need at least one hundred thousand in the next two to three years. If you can’t add more to this factory, then we’ll build another.”
The Baron looked Jean dead in the eyes, a very serious expression on his face.
“Money is no object, Jean. It must be done. For the future of your people in the Empire.”
Jean smiled.
“Of course. I am more than ‘appy to do my part. I ‘ope for better relations between our people. Mine have only seen the ugly parts of the Empire, but I have seen the good in your people. Reconciliation is possible.”
The Barom smiled and patted Jean’s shoulder.
“Good man! Get started as soon as possible, though I understand if you want a break. You’ve got a week before you have to start.”
Jean gave the Baron a salute in the Imperial fashion.
“Oui général!”
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Abbot Adol was sitting in a smoking room built into Castle Grössenstadt. It was both his smoking room and his office, something which he enjoyed quite a bit but he got a myriad of complaints about. He took a drag off of his pipe and blew it up as he sighed contentedly.
While he was taking his time to enjoy his tobacco, the door opened, and in came Empress Samanta Reikspal. She took a seat in front of his desk, and he greeted her with a gesture from his pipe.
“What brings you to my smokey domain, ma’am?”
The Empress scoffed.
“You know what I am here for, you wanted to talk to me about the Baron’s military tactics.”
Abbot nodded and blew a few rings of smoke.
“Yes, it seems that he has adopted a new style of warfare, and I believe it may be from the elves.”
The Empress scoffed again.
“Elves. It always comes back to the damned Messerohr.”
“Well, the style of warfare originates from humans, it’s from the other world, I believe. Anyways, instead of densely packed squares, they fight in elongated lines, at most three to four men deep, each one equipped with a musket.”
The Empress nodded.
“Yes, the era of bows ended decades ago, we were just too blinded by tradition to commit. Still, using infantry as both ranged and melee troops? Seems like an interesting idea.”
Abbot nodded.
“Yes, and I hear he has a new style of bayonet, ingenius honestly-not sure how we didn’t think of this, they mount the bayonet to the side of the barrel itself. There’s small bit of metal sticking out that the bayonet fits into that can also act as something to aim with. They can fire with bayonets attached, it’s something that we must adopt or we will be at a great disadvantage.”
“Yes, I agree. I hear that this new style of warfare was showing promise in places like the Assai’id confederation, which he recently visited in a mercenary capacity. I can see how the highly dense formations would be extremely vulnerable to this line warfare, and increasing artillery technology is making the squares less viable. Abbot.”
The Empress stood.
“Learn everything you can about this style of warfare and then help me reorganize the Grand Imperial Army.”
Abbot nodded his head and blew out a large plume of smoke.
“Of course, ma’am. It will be done, I’ll have a written report in four days.”
The Empress nodded and left the room without saying another word. Abbot puffed on his pipe for a moment before picking his pen up and grabbing a fresh page. He already knew everything they needed to know, he’d been watching their training very closely since they started acting differently.
“I wonder if Brusilov was ever this good? Certainly not in the other world, no.”
He chuckled to himself as he detailed exactly what needed to be done, starting with a complete overhaul of their logistics network and the opening of new firearms factories.
“Let the arms race begin.”