3.35: Next Stage

I looked at the three Hunters.

“Did you clean the barrels every ten shots as I told you?”

“We did,” Theo replied.

“Don’t lie. It will waste a lot of my time, if I enter that rabbit hole for nothing.”

He held my gaze without flinching.

“We cleaned them thoroughly.”

My shoulders sagged.

“Then this was a problem with quality control.”

“Quality… control?”

“Yup. Do you know what is the difference between cool toys and reliable tools?”

“They work?”

“The reliability is the product of quality control at scale. A guarantee that, whenever you pick up any one of the weapons and any ammunition, they just work. Every, single, time.”

I took a sigh.

“We’ve finally stepped into the next stage of industrial development.”

“Which one?”

“The boring one.”

Even with only a little over three thousand of us, the scale of our operations was becoming too much for one mind. There were too many forges, furnaces, kilns, workshops, machines and people for me to supervise personally or anticipate every possible failure.

Time to listen to my beloved and delegate.

It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that I hated debugging. No, sir.

The repaired workshop hummed around us as we entered it. The lathe turned underneath the power of the waterwheel, its rumble changing pitch as the bit dug into the work piece.

They were already working on another cannon.

I waved to Aramid, who was supervising the Ducklings, then followed the Hunters into the boring room.

There, Kovar was bent over another gun barrel on the boring table.

A new exterior wall had been erected to replace the one that had been blown away. The wooden wall on the opposite side was still pockmarked with craters.

My hand went to the steel ball in my pocket.

I pulled it back.

“Kovar, we have a problem.”

He looked up from his work, then told his apprentice to leave.

“Sire?”

Helad placed the mangled rifle on the table and unfolded the cloth around it.

The stout blacksmith stared at it for some time.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You tell me. You’re the expert. Was it the metal, the forging, or something else?”

He came around to look at it.

Picking it up, he took the carcass to a window and began turning it around in the sunlight.

“Hmm… Doesn’t look like a failed weld, but I can’t say for sure. I’ll have to cut it to be sure.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Stop the production of guns.”

His head snapped up.

“We’re abandoning them?”

“No. I’m working on a better steel. Much more uniform. Consistent carbon content.”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent.

“Once we have it, you can resume work. Until then, focus on the cannons.”

“I will. By the way, Sire,” he added, “the men working on the lead sheets say they’ve already made some, if you want to inspect them.”

“Good.”

“You’re really going to make a room out of them?”

“Yes.”

“But you said lead is poisonous.”

“It is. Nobody will be living in it. It’s for making a chemical.”

Speaking of chemicals, I needed to check on my chemist.

One major advantage horses had over vehicles was that horses could walk themselves, as long as you pointed them in the right direction. So, as my horse took me to the saltpeter production site, I was free to mull over the rifle failure in my head.

If the barrel hadn’t failed because of improper handling or a manufacturing defect, then the culprit was most likely the black powder.

If the soldiers had kept it dry, it shouldn’t be misfiring.

Unless there was something wrong with the composition.

I had properly mixed and corned every batch myself, so that part of the process wasn’t the problem.

It couldn’t be the sulfur either. Despite my crude setup, the large difference between the boiling point of sulfur and iron meant that I was definitely getting elemental sulfur from pyrite. A few trace compounds shouldn’t matter.

The fuel was just charcoal crushed to a very fine powder. Not that difficult to produce for experienced charcoal makers and a ball mill.

Saltpeter, on the other hand…

It required careful preparation.

Danel and Levik were brave and diligent men, but chemists they were not.

The acrid and sour stench of the nitrate liquor announced that we had arrived at the saltpeter production site.

Smoke that made you want to plug your nose rose from four large vats as the liquor was boiled to concentrate it, until crystals of potassium nitrate precipitated out. Sacks of potash, that had been refined from the mountains of ash our industry produced, lay against boulders nearby.

Rowan was working along with Danel, Levik, stirring the brown liquid, while two other men scraped the pale crystals of saltpeter from a fifth vat.

“Rowan?”

His eyebrows rose upon seeing me.

“M—my lord?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Putting his paddle to the side, he gingerly walked toward me.

“There might be an issue with the saltpeter,” I told him.

He remained silent, but his face said that he already knew it.

“You knew?”

He flinched at the volume of my voice.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it or say anything to me? One of the guns blew up.”

His eyes widened in panic.

“The man holding it could’ve died!” I almost shouted.

“They—the men don’t listen to me!”

I glared at the men behind him.

They suddenly found the ground fascinating.

I turned back to Rowan.

“You need to be more assertive. What was the problem?”

“There’s some gunk left after boiling the liquor. It needs to be filtered with a clean, fine cloth before boiling. And maybe… the crystals should be dissolved in clean water and boiled again.”

I exhaled, then turned to Levik and Danel.

“Did you ignore his recommendations?”

They didn’t meet my eyes, like children caught stealing candy.

“I asked you to listen to him, didn’t I?”

Nothing.

Apparently polite suggestions weren’t enough. We needed a more rigid hierarchy. Quality control was no longer optional.

“From now on, Rowan is in charge of this operation.”

Danel’s head jerked up.

“But Sire, he’s a young’un!”

“So am I.”

“You’re our Messiah.”

“And why am I putting him in charge?”

They didn’t have an answer.

“Ask him about his past. You won’t be bowing and scraping to him, but you will listen. Or you will answer to me.”

They nodded, though they didn’t look happy.

“I’m not discounting all the work you’ve done,” I continued, “but this process requires someone who understands what is happening in that mixture. The saltpeter needs to be as pure as possible.”

I turned to Rowan.

“I’ve given you authority. That means the responsibility of failure is also yours.”

The short, thin man gulped, then nodded.

“Get me some high-quality saltpeter. Soon.”

He inclined his head again.

This time, his eyes shone with resolve.

My mood ruined, I decided to visit the Bay.

As I walked away, I heard Rowan talking to the men.

His voice was still gentle, but there was some firmness underneath.

Good. He would grow into the role.

At the Bay, the sea shone under the noon sun.

The boat that had capsized yesterday had been dragged back onto the shore, and the ship that had gone to buy canvas had arrived.

I waited while the ship was moored.

The moment the gangplank was placed, Jaklen got off the ship and walked up to me.

He bowed with a flourish.

“Sire.”

“How was your trip, Captain?”

“Fine. Though a man jingled a large bag of gold coins in front of me to buy one of the crossbows.”

“As expected. Anything else?”

“Well…” His eyebrows crinkled in worry. “One of the men saw a high-ranking priest arriving on a ship from the south.”

The Church acted quickly. Must be because of my marriage.

I pushed the thought aside.

“I’m sure Laira has it under control.”

“Ah… speaking of the Queen.” He reached inside his coat. “There is a letter from her for you.”

He took out an envelope made of vellum.

It smelled faintly of rose and jasmine.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Dear Jack,

I hope you and your people are doing fine. I eagerly await your arrival in Aldersthron for our wedding.

As you know, I’ve faced some trouble in the capital. I would be grateful if you could send me some of the gifts you were going to arrive with a bit early.

Yours,

Queen Laira Nahnon.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Why would she need the crossbows?

Had Stormhaven already made his move? Or was it someone else?

I looked at the letter.

Could this have been forged?

I kept reading.

“P.S.: The gift you sent with my aide was also quite excellent. I’ve never experienced anything like it. The next time we meet, let us try it together.”

A snigger escaped me.

Reshma must’ve forced her to write this. The letter definitely wasn’t forged.

There was another line beneath it.

“I gave the Church a generous donation in your name, for your good health. Please take better care of yourself.”

Crap.

I was going to be in trouble.

Well, better me than her.

“Hmm…”

“Sire?”

“You’ll have to go on another voyage.”

“When?”

“The moment we have a ship ready.”

“There’s four of them.”

“No. Not as they are.”

If Stormhaven was indeed moving, he might attack my ships. I couldn’t have him getting his filthy hands on my precious crossbows.

Even small triangular sails at the front and the back of the ship should make them more maneuverable.

I looked at the approaching leader of the immigrants.

“Master Wolmar!”

He looked up.

“Get one of the ships ready.”

I smiled.

“Time to test the new sails on them.”