[Mid April, 1271]
It's been a couple of weeks since Armet got hired by Saskia herself to support her rebellion with a new type of weaponry. Now, he's enslaving himself away with a couple of dwarves and humans in a secluded but otherwise airy workshop just at the corner of the city, away from the residential neighbourhood. This place is not like his own, much more spacious. All is done by hand, so he added a couple more chemical burn marks to his skin. Right now, he's wearing a mask, his was a custom-made, a gift from his professor back at Oxenfurt, while the rest only uses thick cloth to cover their faces.
He and his team have finished another batch, a barrel's worth, a week's worth of work. He's starting to doubt if he could actually do this if those factories aren't running yet.
But before he could despair more on his self-inflicted workload, someone came from the door. It was Cecil, who's covering his nose with a cloth.
"What do you want, old dwarf?" Armet said, still concentrating on his work.
"Yer cannon, as ye called it." Cecil said. "They're ready."
Armet perked up at the mention of the cannon, pausing his work and dusting off his gloves. "Alright boys, continue on without me."
Armet then walked up towards Cecil, taking off his gloves and his mask, placing it at the hangar just near the exit door. The two of them exited the place, entering the craftsman district of the city.
"Do you think you have four horses that could be used to drag the damned weapon out of the workshop?" Armet said, trying to clean charcoal dust out of his clothing.
"I've already seen to that. They told me tae bring four exactly. The craftsmen've also made special wheels for it, so it's much easier tae move," Cecil said.
"Yeah, I put that in the diagram too." Armet hummed. In the distance, he could suddenly hear the sound of musket fire just outside of the walls. Armet whistled at hearing it. "Yarpen seems to enjoy wasting my powder away with the peasants."
"Hah! Half o' the merchants came tae me beggin' tae sell those tae 'em. An' the other half just complain about th' noise," Cecil snorted.
"And what do you say to them?"
"For askin' tae sell, obviously nay. Fer th' noise complaints, suck it up," Cecil snorted. "We're preparin' tae defend against a siege. Though I suppose they dinnae know that yet."
"Still keeping it a tight secret?" Armet said.
"The last thing we want is mass panic, lad," Cecil said.
"I suppose you're right." Armet sighed. "Should we fetch Saskia for this… field test?"
"I think she'd like it," Cecil nodded.
"Then I'll prepare the weapon for transport. You'll go and fetch the dragonslayer."
—
Now Armet is going through the streets with the dwarven metallurgist, following four horses that are dragging something covered in cloth. There is another small carriage behind them, carrying two barrels. One is filled with black powder, the other with iron cannonballs. A crowd begins to gather around them, curious about what they are bringing. After all, it takes four horses to drag this thing across the cobbled path.
It is then that Saskia appears with Cecil, which makes the crowd even more restless. She walks beside Armet now, pretending not to notice the attention.
"Wouldn't it be better for you not to show up here?" Armet said. "Now people will take this seriously."
"Your presence with your new weapon already looks serious, Armet of Vergen. They know you created those thunderers outside, and no doubt they suspect this is your new invention as well," Saskia said. "Cover it with cloth all you want, the people will still be curious."
"Still, now they know it definitely involves you," Armet muttered. "But do what you want."
"If you have a critique of me, you can speak to me directly," said Saskia. "You are my chief engineer. Your words are valuable."
"That title doesn't feel like it means much," Armet chuckled. "But surely you must know what I think of you by now, Miss Saskia, through the mouth of this old dwarf Cecil. So I don't think I need to say it again. I create weapons of war, not the wars themselves, so take it as you will."
"You mean your opinion that I am hypocritical?" Saskia chuckled as well.
Armet hummed. "The old dwarf doesn't hide any details from you, it seems."
"Ergh, you told me to tell her, lad. Don't blame me," Cecil snorted.
"It's a critique that has merit, Armet. I know that myself," Saskia said. "That I plan to be queen, an absolute monarch, even though I preach about equality, the erasure of prejudice, and liberty from kings. But what would you have me do? Let them choose their own? The dwarves will choose dwarves. The humans will choose nobles. The elves will choose their kin. They will argue constantly. Old wounds will reopen, if not create new ones."
"I understand that we need a single leader in times of war. But in peace? Isn't that the point of creating a state where everyone is equal? Where everyone has a voice?" Armet said simply. "Let them argue all they want, at least they argue on equal terms, old wounds be damned."
"Then you don't know these people. Wounds like that do not heal," Saskia said. "This rebellion is only a truce. The dwarves and elves still remember what the humans did to them, and the humans remember just as well. You can count on them to bring it up whenever it suits them."
"If you say that, then here's a counterpoint: you don't trust your own bannermen," said Armet. "You gathered them here under the promise of a land without prejudice, yet you don't trust that they've shed their old ones. So what will your new kingdom be built on, then? Because the way I hear it, instead of making the races confront their past atrocities on equal terms, you let them hide their wounds behind your charisma, your authority. Wounds that might slowly grow larger under your rule."
He paused for a moment before continuing. "The whole point of your rebellion is that it's built on discontent with the present and the hope of a better future. Hope is the key here. An idealistic future. But if you turn into a realist now, Miss Saskia, you'll build a fragile state at best. The moment you die, even if your heir is half-decent, it will all fall back to what it was before. That's my opinion."
Silence followed Armet's words. Saskia's gaze drifted from him to Cecil. "And what about you, Cecil? You've lived through more kings than both of us. Am I wrong? Am I building something doomed to crumble the moment I fall?"
Cecil tugged at his beard. "Ye want honesty? A crown's a strong thing in war, but a brittle thing in peace," he muttered. "The way ye deal wi' conflict in peace is different than in war. In war, everyone has a common enemy, so they keep quiet. In peace, that's another matter. Folk don't shed their grudges just because ye tell 'em to. A monarch can hold it together as long as the respect lasts, aye, but the moment the shine o' the crown fades, even for a blink, old wounds bleed again. If ye want yer realm tae last, lass, it'll need more than yer will alone."
Saskia frowned. "So you'd trust them to govern themselves? These lords, guildmasters, and chiefs? You think they wouldn't tear the land apart for their own gain?"
"Trust? Hah." Cecil spat to the side. "I dinnae trust 'em farther than I could throw 'em. But we came here wi' ideals o' equality, an' if they truly hope for that, then maybe we can work somethin' out."
Armet spoke again. "You can keep your crown, Miss Saskia. We need unity now, no one denies that, and you are the beacon of it. But once peace is won, bind yourself to something larger. A council, perhaps, where dwarf and elf and man all have a seat. Let them argue, yes, but let them argue in a chamber where their words carry equal weight. You as queen would not hold all the power, but you would give the council its shape and guarantee that none will be silenced. That way, your name isn't remembered as just another monarch, but as the founder of a realm that endures."
"I will… take your advice into consideration, Armet." said Saskia quietly, thinking deeply. She seemed to think about something else however, not specifically about the things that Armet just said.
—
When they arrived at a small open space near the forest just a few miles off Vergen, the dwarf metallurgists started to unload the carriage and align the weapon itself. They pointed the barrel at the trees, shouting upon one another and working together to test this new weapon.
Armet approached them, walking away from Cecil and Saskia for a moment.
"Calm down, will you?" said Armet. "The thing's not going anywhere."
The dwarf scoffed. "Calm yer arse. Ye should be more giddy, lad. This weapon o' yers is the best we've ever made. An' now that the Dragonslayer herself is here, we need t' show its true potential by aimin' it at as many trees as we can."
Armet sighed. "Fine, just… be quick about it."
Armet just watched as the dwarves argued and argued about where the cannon should ultimately point at. One argued that they should aim it at the side of the forest where it ends in the forest, so they could see the cannons' effect on stone, others said they should just point out at the forest so it could hit as many trees as possible, simulating men being mowed down by the cannon. At the end of the day, it is a meaningless argument, an argument that is wasting time from these old dwarves.
"Alright, enough of this." Armet said, a bit impatient. "We have enough cannon balls to shoot the entire damned forest clean, so your ideas will be tried, but for now, aim it at the side of the mountain."
The dwarves merely grumbled, but did what Armet said anyways. The cannons were aligned, aiming it through the forest, and towards the side of the mountain in the corner. Armet walked to the other carriage, and retrieved a whole small sack of black powder that's already been calculated for the shot. He put it through the muzzle, then went back to retrieve the cannon ball. It's a whole twenty four pound iron ball, among the heaviest things that Armet had carried in a while.
He put the ball to the muzzle, pushed it deep using a stick, and turned to the dwarves at the other side of the cannon.
"Prick the sack!" he commanded. The dwarf obliged. From a small hole atop the cannon's tail, the dwarf used a giant needle to puncture the sack, then he stepped back.
"Alright, prepare to shoot!" Armet told the others. He covered his right ears as he stood just at the side, a couple feet away. A dwarf brought a long match stick and lit it up.
"Ready?" asked Armet. "Fire!"
The dwarves started to sweat a little. There's a chance that the powder might just explode the cannon instead of launching the ball, but the dwarf lowered the match stick either way, to the hole where the previous dwarf had punctured the sack.
And then…
*BOOM!*
The cannon ultimately, did, in fact, launched the ball instead of exploding in their faces. The sound and the shockwave was deafening, even Saskia seemed to flinch at the noise and the sight. The ball flew through the air, destroying trees that got in their way, falling them down with ease, and at the end of its journey, it hit the side of the mountain, which destroyed a big chunk of it causing a small earthquake.
The dwarves cheered, ecstatic even. They've never seen anything like it. The sound, the shockwave, the power of the weapon, they want to feel it again.
"Oi! Shoot it again, lad!" one dwarf shouted, demanding Armet.
"Shoot it yourself." Armet scoffed with a smile, throwing the custom stick that pushed the ball deep into the muzzle to him. Not protesting, the dwarf started to walk to the carriage where the powder was stored.
Meanwhile, Armet walked towards Saskia. When he approached her, she looked pensive.
"So, what do you think?" Armet asked. "We only have one so far, because it's quite hard to make, but I'm sure the dwarf could think of better ways to create it, they seem to love the idea of it."
"I must say, even I could see that you could burst a drake's stomach with this weapon, if it's shot accurately." Saskia said seriously.
"But the drakes aren't our enemy right now." Armet said.
"Aye. I wouldn't stand facin' the barrel o' that damned thing. An' I've been through many a battle". Cecil muttered. "I don't reckon those Kaedweni'd be brave enough to face it."
"Where would you place it?" Saskia asked.
"The walls." Armet answered. "Moving it there would be a bit hard, but we'll make due."
"How many do you plan to make for the defence of the city?" Saskia asked again.
"That… I do not know yet." Armet said with a frown. "It's harder and more expensive to make than I thought, but expect the number to be below ten. That'll take almost a month to finish. When do you think Stennis will arrive? He sure is taking his time."
"The last report suggests the prince is still gatherin' support from the nobles in Vengerberg," Cecil said. As he spoke, the cannon fired once more, the shockwave and noise disrupting the conversation. The dwarves' laughter followed shortly after.
"Bloody hell… ahem, as I was sayin'… seems the prince is in a tight pinch. The nobles aren't cooperatin' wi' him, so the chance he actually wants t' attack us is near nonexistent. That, an' add the news o' King Foltest's assassination arrived just a few days ago, the Peace o' Cintra is lookin' shakier by the week."
"We'll still have to be vigilant of the south due to that. From Aedirn and beyond alike." Saskia said seriously. "But our worries are now more from the north. It's confirmed now, King Henself is gathering an army to march to us, to take back Upper Aedirn for Kaedwin."
"And we're planning that we'll fight to the end?" Armet asked.
Saskia smiled. "What do you think, Armet of Vergen? What would you do?"
Armet chuckled. "Vergen, in my mind, has always been a different place from the rest of Aedirn. But I certainly do not want to be under Henselt. So fight to the death it is."
Another booming sound echoed throughout the forest as the dwarves' metallurgist shot another ball, making Armet turn to it. He looked at the laughter of the dwarves, and sighed.
"Speaking of which, like I said, we need men trained to man the cannons." Armet said. "Preferably men that are good with mathematics. Or, well, men that can eyeball the direction the projection is going to land. So I'll have to speak with Yarpen for that."
"You can speak with Yarpen however you wish, Armet. I am sure that he will give you the men you need." Saskia said. "Then I shall return, though it seems the dwarves are enjoying the weapon that they had made a little bit too much. Perhaps they can be the ones who man the weapons."
*BOOM!*
Another shot from the dwarves. It fell on almost three trees at once. The dwarves are once again laughing.
"Not a chance in hell." Cecil shook his head. "Their skills are more valuable in the backline than the front. I'm sure they'll be more than capable if the situation demands it, but for now, no."
—
At the dead of night, Armet sat at his workstation, a pair of magnifying glasses strapped over his head. In his hands were delicate tools for carving runes from runestone, a craft he was still practicing. He did not yet have the ingredients to create proper runestones, as they were expensive and rare. For now, he was simply practicing the carving so that when the time came, the work would go smoothly.
He was not carving on ordinary armor or swords either. At the moment, he had taken parts of the thunderers' components and used them as his medium for empty runes. Because the barrel's surface was uneven, he had to balance the depth of each rune so it would not jeopardize the barrel's integrity, while still making it deep enough to be effective.
With only a candle to light the barrel, he worked steadily, practicing with slow, precise movements.
A knock came at the door. Armet glanced at it briefly but turned back to his task.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened and someone entered. Armet did not look to see who it was and spoke without thinking.
"Did something bad happen to the powder mill that you have to knock on my door in the middle of the night, old dwarf?"
Then he caught a scent, a pleasant perfume. He frowned at it and finally turned to see who it was. A woman. Cynthia. Philippa's apprentice.
"That was rather rude of you. I am no old dwarf," she said with a soft smile, brushing her fingers over a dusty cabinet in the corner.
"Well, forgive me for not expecting a sorceress's apprentice to knock on my door at night," Armet replied. "Usually it is Yarpen with his questions about training the men, or Cecil with news of production."
"You are a human, but you have surrounded yourself with dwarves and rarely humans," she said matter-of-factly. "We humans have our needs, especially at our age, but you do not go to brothels either. Do you prefer the company of them, Armet of Vergen?"
"I do not sleep with males, human, dwarf, or elf, if that is what you are insinuating," Armet said. "Nor do I have any interest in female dwarves, if that is your next guess."
"I was not insinuating anything," she replied with a soft giggle.
"Of course you were not." Armet smiled faintly. "What do you want, miss? Does your master know you are here?"
"She does not. She is busy at the moment, and I happen to have free time," she answered. "Can I not visit you? We have never really spoken. I would like to get to know you better."
"Well, you don't exactly talk to others. Though I am guilty of that as well," Armet muttered, standing and leaning against his workstation, arms crossed over his chest. "Do forgive me. I have a certain distrust of mages as a whole. The ones I've met so far are a bunch of self-loathing women."
"That's a rather crude word. Is the only one you've met my mistress?" she asked.
"I didn't insinuate that. You've come to that conclusion yourself," Armet smiled.
She chuckled softly, then glanced at the craft Armet was working on. "Runes? Do you have the knowledge to work on that? From the disturbances I felt on my skin, you must be wearing some kind of dimeritium jewelry. Didn't you know dimeritium disturbs magic? Your runes cannot be activated while you're wearing that."
"Oh, I know," Armet hummed. "I am just practicing. But what I am doing is none of your business. Please leave, so I can return to my work."
"Did I do something to offend you?" she asked calmly. "I was just trying to get to know you. You're a young and rather handsome man."
Armet shook his head in amusement. If he did not know better, she genuinely wanted to get to know him. But he knew better. Cynthia was a Nilfgaardian spy, and her approach was probably under orders from whoever sent her to Vergen.
Which meant only one thing: the black ones saw value in what Armet had created, and either wanted to recruit him under Nilfgaard's banner or eliminate him entirely. If she came here to seduce him, he guessed it was the former, though the latter remained a possibility.
If he refused her outright, the danger would rise significantly. He did not want assassins on his trail just yet. So he weighed the options. Better to tolerate a beautiful sorceress-in-training once in a while to maintain the charade than to wait for assassins. He knew the answer.
He smiled. "Well, I do not want to make your mistress angry. I am sure she is one of those jealous types. Though the thought of annoying her interests me a bit."
"My relationship with my mistress is strictly master and student," she said simply.
"None would believe that, dear," Armet laughed. "You are loud, the both of you."
She smiled at that. "Alright. But she doesn't have to know."
"Fine. We can talk," Armet hummed. "Go sit somewhere while I focus on practicing my runewriting skill."
He turned back to the runes and sat down, continuing his practice. He could hear Cynthia walking toward the area near his bed, but he said nothing.
"So, why me? I'm sure there are plenty of people in this city interested in a young mage-in-training like you. Yet you come to the one person who has the least interest."
"Well, I found you attractive. Is that fair to say?" she replied. "Most people here are dwarves, elves, or rough-looking men. You, on the other hand, have a scholar's background. You're an anomaly in this city. And unlike with my mistress, I can speak with you on somewhat equal terms. Speaking of which, why are you here? I know it's your hometown, but Oxenfurt seems a better place for someone like you."
"I'm a weapons engineer. I thrive in places that need what I do," Armet said. "Oxenfurt doesn't really need weapons right now. So my option is here."
"Weapons… you have an interesting approach to them," she said. "No one has ever thought of using Zerrikanian powder the way you use it. Where do you get such ideas?"
"Well, explosions push things away from their source," Armet replied simply. "Walls, iron balls, lead bullets… it's all the same. It's just a matter of controlling it to do what you want. But enough of that. Where are you from, Cynthia?"
"You actually know my name? I thought you were just avoiding asking," she chuckled. "I'm from Vengerberg. I apprenticed with many mediocre mages. Then I saw greatness in others and decided to seek out my mistress. I found her to be the best of the best, if you're excluding the elven sages, of course."
"I would pity you, but you chose that yourself."
She giggled. "She's a tough mentor, sure, but she teaches well. Have you seen her cast spells? She has a grace many other sorceresses lack."
"And you paid her for her services?" Armet asked.
"Yes. Are you interested?" she asked back.
"I have no talent for magic, but I find it fascinating. Science and magic correlate deeply," Armet said. "Even if I had the talent, though, I wouldn't want to study under Phillipa. I hear you have a rough time. Whipping, slapping, and what else?"
"You seem rather interested in my bed activities with my mistress," she said in amusement.
"It's not that I'm interested. Everyone knows, Cynthia. It's hard not to notice. I mention it because you seem not to care at all," Armet replied.
"We can do that too, if you'd like. Here," she joked.
Armet chuckled. "You're not satisfied with your mistress only?"
"My mistress, at the end of the day, is a woman," said Cynthia. "And to be honest, I much prefer men."
"You're fine on either side? Or is your relationship with Phillipa a forced circumstance?"
"Maybe a little of both. I haven't figured it out yet." She shrugged and stood from the bed. "Well, I'd better get back before my mistress notices I'm missing. Perhaps I could visit you later, if I have free time again."
Armet stopped what he was doing and turned to her. He smiled thinly. "Sure, if you'd like."
She returned his smile. "Then I look forward to the next visit."
After that, Cynthia left, leaving Armet alone in his workshop. His smile faded, and he let out a long sigh. He turned back to the runes, but instead of continuing, he extinguished his candle and went to his bed to sleep.
—
A week later, Armet stood with Cecil outside of the city itself, a few miles off to be exact. Right now, he's overseeing the installment on new machineries to produce the powder much more quickly. Due to the nature of the production of the powder, it smells, and Armet decided it was just better to move it outside of town, even though it posed a lot of risk.
The dwarves are quick to open the land. They placed this new soon-to-be industrial area near the river, where multiple water-powered mills could be installed. The area in itself is quite spacious, for expansion in future. Right now, they're importing most of the ingredients for the powder, but in the future, Armet thinks it's cheaper to get the things that could be made in-house.
This will essentially be the place where everything is made, at least in the future. The thunderers, the cannons, the powder and their ammunition. All of it will be made here. The charcoal will be produced here. Wood will be sent here to be processed to make the stocks. Cannons will be drilled here at the mill. Thunderer barrels will be forged here. Everything. But for now, it's only the powder mill that is planned to be operating in the next couple of weeks.
Of course, there's been challenges on where to pick the spots. A lot of Upper Aedirn are floodplains. That is why it is also called the Northern Marshes. And while it could be beneficial, as the soil is some of the most incredibly fertile land in the north, it could be hard to make more sophisticated infrastructure like roads using the rest of the land that is not used on farmlands.
"It'll be hard in the future." Armet muttered, watching as workers slowly building the buildings needed for the industrial area.
"Why d'ye say that?" Cecil asked.
"Upper Aedirn is not exactly a friendly place to build things." Armet said. "It'll be expensive to build roads through the marshes. Not to mention, an open industry like this. Armies will have a tough time going through here during flooding season."
"Aye, but it's ours, innit?" Cecil said. "I'm sure we'll figure things out. From the look on yer face, ye already got ideas brewin', don't ye?"
Armet raised his brow in amusement. "I make weapons. I don't build roads or factories."
"And yet ye're buildin' a bloody factory now," Cecil scoffed.
Armet just shook his head with a smile. "Still… I don't know if this is a good idea. The Kaedwinis will cross the Pontar, and they'll definitely raid this place."
Cecil sighed. "We've no other choice. The smell will disturb the city if we expand there. Better here. We could just fix it after the siege had ended, and made them pay for it."
Armet hummed. "We'll just have to make sure we win."