In the modern world before transmigration, news from various conflict zones often sounded absurd yet were not jokes. An armed group might assemble cannons from seamless steel pipes manufactured in some faraway country. Another force might modify gas pipes into makeshift rockets. Some used liquefied gas tanks as grenades, or toy drones as reconnaissance tools. Besides being amusing, these stories reflected the advanced metallurgy and manufacturing capabilities of the modern era. Once those reach a certain level, the line between civilian and military applications can indeed be crossed.
Unfortunately, the basic level of technology in the world of Ice and Fire was still far from reaching that point.
The first batch of cannon barrels produced in the First Foundry Workshop of Crown Town had already been cast and cooled two months ago, yet they remained sealed away without even a single test firing. Aegor had not done this to secretly hoard powerful weapons for fighting the living. He simply encountered real, unavoidable difficulties.
The current method of casting cannon barrels in The Gift was based on, or rather entirely dependent on, existing bell-casting techniques found throughout Westeros. The process was as follows: spend money in major cities like King's Landing and Oldtown to hire experienced bell casters, bring them north, show them the schematics that Aegor drew himself, and have them work according to his instructions. The final product could be called a bronze cannon, but in essence, it was nothing more than an elongated and narrowed bronze bell. There was no doubt that if suspended, it would ring beautifully. To become artillery, many crucial steps were still missing.
Since the metal was bronze, which had better physical properties than iron, the risk of cracks and burst barrels was lower. But turning a bronze bell into a functional cannon still required several steps. First, grinding and filing the surface to remove burrs and holes that could lead to stress concentration. Then, boring and polishing the interior of the barrel, making it as straight as possible to ensure firing speed and accuracy. Finally, drilling a touchhole at the rear. Only then could it be considered barely usable.
With enough time and manpower, these tasks were within the technical ability of this world. They were not the main reason the artillery project stalled before the White Walkers attacked. The real obstacle was Powder, or more precisely, the severe shortage of saltpeter.
...
Even if a proper cannon were successfully cast and refined, no one in the world knew how to use one. Powder weapons were not like simple bombs that anyone could throw. Artillery required trained gunners, which meant long periods of instruction, drills, and live firing to determine reasonable Powder charges, proper handling, and accurate aiming techniques.
Most importantly, the soldiers needed to become accustomed to the deafening roar of cannon fire, otherwise in battle they might panic more from their own weapon than from the enemy.
None of this was technically difficult. It simply consumed Powder. And without a stable supply, with less than two tons of saltpeter brought back from King's Landing during Aegor's risky trip, forcing the artillery project forward would result in two possible outcomes.
Either they rushed into battle with poorly trained gunners, producing chaos on the field and failing to unleash the true power of their new weapons. Or they consumed nearly all their Powder training those gunners, leaving none for actual combat, like a clever cook with no rice to cook.
Furthermore, artillery was not necessarily more effective against wight swarms or White Walkers than the brutal combination of bombs and Wildfire. The Night King standing three hundred meters away in darkness during the Crown Town defense was already impossible for Dragonglass artillery to deal with. Shot rounds could not reach him. Solid shots would miss. Exploding shells required fuses that this world could not produce anytime soon.
The facts were clear. The success of dragonsteel bombs, and the small remaining number of Dragonglass bombs after Long Lake, proved Aegor was correct not to rush immature weapons into battle.
However, even correct decisions have an expiration date. Bombs were useful, but they could not conquer the world. With saltpeter deposits discovered at Last Hearth and resource collection proceeding smoothly across the North, that mysterious project that had been halted, whose name could not even be spoken aloud, was finally ready to resume.
---
Preparing for war was not complicated, but preparing for war in secret could not be done by remote command. Even though Aegor felt it rude to leave Daenerys at Last Hearth, he had to explain things in person before departing. Leaving Jarman Buckwell with over a thousand elites to guard Daenerys and the injured dragon, Aegor took the remaining forces and the first batch of saltpeter back to Crown Town.
As long as one lived, strategic deception must continue. The first thing Aegor did after returning was put on a show. Ignoring the Iron Throne entirely, he immediately began organizing the expedition Beyond the Wall.
Once the brief celebration ended, ravens and messengers carried the first major orders since the bloody victory at Long Lake to every fortress. Aegor officially declared that the war had entered the phase of strategic counterattack. The specific orders were: first, redeploy personnel and refill the many abandoned or destroyed forts between the Gorge and Nightfort. Second, resume pre-war patrols, prohibit soldiers from leaving their posts without permission, restore daily drills, even increase them, and select strong residents to expand the Rangers. Third, order the Shadow Tower, Castle Black, and Eastwatch to dig through the tunnels beneath the Wall that had been flooded during the invasion, preparing for the expedition.
After arranging these tasks, which both strengthened The Gift and created a smokescreen, the weapon development personnel he had summoned earlier had already assembled. Aegor left his private office and held a short but dense meeting. He assigned tasks according to his prepared plan, including artillery testing, recasting, research, training manuals, and more.
With his new identity and responsibilities, the scraps of modern knowledge in his mind were no longer his sole weapon. Instead, every mistake by his subordinates would cost him personally. Thus he not only gave orders but poured out every last bit of scientific understanding he possessed, guiding these ancient-era researchers so they would take as few detours as possible.
Artillery was the hard part of preparation. But the soft part, the political and economic groundwork, was even broader. After the meeting, Aegor dismissed most people, leaving only one outsider, Tobho Mott, the metallurgical master from King's Landing.
When Aegor invited him north to recast Lightbringer, he offered one-fifth of the dragonsteel as payment, to be paid after the war. Tobho feared that Aegor would refuse to pay later, so he stayed at Crown Town to wait for his reward. While waiting, he accepted a high salary and taught metalcraft to Night's Watch workers. He only meant to pass the time, but under the relentless energy of The Gift, and aided by proper compensation, he gradually became a serious mentor. Eventually, he turned from an external expert into a half-insider, his relationship with the Night's Watch far closer.
...
"Master Mott," Aegor gestured for him to sit and smiled. "Thank you for leaving King's Landing and coming to this cold place to assist the Night's Watch. Without your work, we might still have won, but at far greater cost. Your contribution is immense. Now the war is over, or almost over. The one-fifth payment, one-fifth of seventy-one is fourteen and one-fifth, so I…"
"Ten is enough," Tobho replied at once, assuming Aegor wished to negotiate the fraction. "To stand shoulder to shoulder with the Night's Watch in such a great war and help protect the Seven Kingdoms is the greatest honor of my life. The experience of that night when Crown Town was attacked, that, my Lord, I can tell my grandson, and he can tell his grandson. The extra four and one-fifth dragonsteel arrows are my respect for the Night's Watch."
Standing shoulder to shoulder was, of course, a generous exaggeration. In truth, Tobho had hidden under blankets in his room inside the inner keep, trembling, not seeing even a single wight. He had cursed Aegor endlessly for bringing him to this nightmare.
But when dawn rose and he saw the ruins of the city, the mountains of corpses, and Daenerys descending from the sky on dragonback, and watched Crown Town's soldiers muster courage to pursue the fleeing dead, all his fear turned into awe and pride. He had lived through the battle, and that was enough for him.
So long as Aegor officially confirmed that the arrow which killed the Night King was forged by him, payment no longer mattered. He had long since surpassed the point where wealth motivated him. What he wanted was reputation, and something to boast of for life.
"Ah? No, you misunderstand," Aegor said, surprised. His smile widened. "I am not arguing over fractions. I will round it up for you. Fifteen. You may choose any fifteen Lightbringers to take back to King's Landing. So long as you respect the official numbering, you may keep or sell them as you like. But I want to ask another favor."
"Speak, my Lord. If I can do it, I will not refuse." No promise had ever been made more sincerely.
"Only seventy-one true Lightbringers were forged. Six more were made from scraps at my request. And after the White Walkers broke through the Gorge and seized several forts, we melted twenty of them into fragments to fill bombs. Which means that in this world, only fifty-one true Lightbringers remain. Only a few insiders know this. I told you to keep it secret. You did not speak of it, did you?"
"Of course not. I am not a child. I know what can and cannot be said."
"Thank you. Unfortunately, even those fifty-one were all used in the war. We recovered fewer than thirty. As for whether the missing ones were destroyed, lost, or hidden by soldiers hoping to sell them later, I will never know, and I cannot investigate publicly." Aegor sighed. "It is easy to imagine that after the war, people will start showing up with so-called Lightbringers, claiming they found them on the battlefield, trying to profit from the legend. If that chaos spreads, the value and legend of the real blades will be ruined. Instead of letting others profit from us, why should we not take this opportunity ourselves?"
Tobho Mott's eyes widened as he put the pieces together. "You want me to forge forty more, making seventy-seven?"
"In my homeland, there is a saying that history is written by the victors," Aegor said with a faint smile. "Is the authenticity of Lightbringer not the same as the so-called truth of history? Real or fake does not truly matter. If the two of us say it is real, then even false becomes true. And if we say it is false, then even truth becomes false. Between real and unreal, the two of us, the forger and the first owner, have the final say."
(To be continued.)