by Chris Hechtl
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Serena smiled at the other Dominas as they sat and gossiped while doing needlepoint. She usually detested such endeavors, they served only limited purpose, or so she had thought. Rojer had gently reminded her years ago the dual purpose the gossip sessions were for. In exchanging gossip one could start a rumor that would buzz around the castle and lands... whether true or not. She grinned. “Yes, I dare say Rojer was a bit put out over being denied glory in that battle,” she said, looking at her stitching.
Domina Jericho looked up in surprise. “His grace as well? Why my Jericho fumed for days over being denied battle!”
“My husband as well,” Domina Byron said in agreement. “Though I for one was relieved that he was not killed in some foolish charge,” she murmured. The other wives nodded thoughtfully.
“But none benefited,” Serena murmured.
“None but the gaijin,” Domina Jericho said snidely. She pecked at her stitching, angry at something or other.
“I bet they did it on purpose! To hog all the glory for themselves!” another wife said. Her teenage daughter nodded, face set.
“It may be true,” Serena said seemingly reluctantly as the other wives began to cluck and chatter about that. She hid a small tight smile as she rocked; glad her seed had been set.
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“So we're shifting focus here to agrarian and mining needs now that the war is won. We need to get the economy jump started to pay for the toys we've built not to mention make up for the lost planting time,” Max said looking around at his native assistants. “We've got a long hard winter ahead of us folks and not a whole lot of growing time left to make up for it,” he said. The workers nodded soberly. They all knew how hard the winters were there.
“This latest batch of rifles will be the last. Tomorrow we'll retool the factory to build some parts for the machines we'll need down the road. Anything that we can't adapt we'll store,” Max ordered. “That includes the rifling benches. The copying lathes can work on other projects...”
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“Are we going to work with the Barrett today?” a soldier asked. He was pretty excited about handling the thunder stick.
“Ah no, we're going to work on marksmanship with the Springfield. Since inventory pointed out we're low on fifty cal ammo,” Edsfield said looking away.
“Why not the Barrett?” another student asked.
“Because we've got a limited number of rounds, like I just said,” Edsfield replied, tone cooling. “We did an inventory and the brass heads said ixney.” He frowned as he looked back at them. They were looking confused. He rumbled a sigh. “Look they said since we're low on ammo and can't make more of the special types for now we've got to conserve it for emergencies. Sniper ammo is a bitch to make.”
“Ah,” a student said. “For the new war?” he asked ingeniously.
“God help us no,” Edsfield muttered. “Better hope not.” He shrugged, “not my problem.”
“When can we expect new rounds?” the blond student asked.
“Not for a looong time. Wanda's is up to her neck in other projects and making the special gunpowder is hard and dangerous. She's put it off for now,” he said and then shrugged. “So, let's take a look at the Springfield. Right now we've got ladder sights, so we'll have to work with what we've got. I'm not sure when the rest of the optics will come in so let's squeeze off a few shots and see how you do..."
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Rojer looked up, pursing his lips in irritation as Dominus Pettigrew and Pemerson, and Jericho came in, barging past Rojer's steward and manservant to enter. “They dare!” Permerson said, shaking his head. Pettigrew was fuming as well, red in the face. Rojer sat back, hands in his lap.
“Oh?”
“The gaijin! They dare!”
“Dare what, may I ask?” Rojer asked simply, staring at the three men. Baron Pemerson paced, flouncing his yellow cape about in his anger.
“The gaijin,” Pettigrew said shaking his head. He couldn't speak, just repeat himself. He seemed stunned.
“Oh? And dare say what are they up to now?” the Duke asked, hiding a smile.
“They have stopped making weapons and cut back on training,” the general rumbled from the doorway. They nodded as Pendragon entered. “Sorry to barge in like this your grace but...”
“You are rightfully furious. I don't blame you,” Rojer said smiling in sympathy. “Cannot we just order the workers to make more weapons?”
“That's the problem, the maker of machines Max has locked away those needed and already switched over to making other things. We no longer have ammunition.”
“We don't?” Rojer asked, eyebrows high in surprise. He couldn't quite keep real dismay out of his voice. The constant inventories had prevented his steward from bribing someone to steal sample weapons and ammunition for the Duke to have copied. He'd tried once but had failed miserably. The Duke had been forced to deal with the unfortunate Miles and make it look like an accident.
“We only have what weapons and ammunition we have on hand! They have decreed it is enough for the year and stopped production! I've had to stop training the other men with the weapons!” the general snarled as the other lords looked at him. The old warrior was a bright red, fists curled until his aged knuckles were quite white.
“My that is troubling,” the Duke murmured. “Have you discussed it with them yet?” he asked.
“I plan to do it forthwith,” the general snarled.
“I'll join you,” Baron Pemerson said. He left with the general.
“I dare say the gaijin have overstepped themselves,” Dominus Jericho snarled softly. “And the Queen,” he said.
Pettigrew shot a look at the Duke and then grunted. “Do have a care,” he said.
“No, let him speak his mind. After all, the gaijin are encouraging such things these days,” his grace said, smiling to the Dominus. Jericho was a fat fool, more interested in his vineyards and his wine competition than in power or in his duties. But if this woke him up, perhaps he could be persuaded to take a side. Or at least not take the wrong side, the Duke thought, listening to Jericho's list of complaints and slights.
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The general gave Ryans a dirty look as he entered the room. “What?" Ryans asked. The general was red in the face. Ryans wrinkled his nose; he could smell the rot gut. Deidra gave him a warning look. Ryans glanced around the room. There were several lords here, some he didn't recognize. A few he did but didn't have names to faces. Most were in the warmonger category.
“I have been informed your men have been securing their weapons,” the general said.
“Of course. That’s protocol,” Ryans said nodding.
“And your man Max has stopped making rifles and ammunition,” General Pendragon said.
Ryans nodded. “Yup. Gotta pay for the last war don't you know.” Ryans said lounging back, crossing his arms as he leaned against a pillar behind him. Deidra gave him a look.
“We need more weapons,” the lord next to the general spat out.
“Nope, I think you've got plenty,” Ryans said pointing to the sword belted to the man's waist, and to weapons hanging from hooks on the wall. “Looks like an armory to me.”
The lord sputtered. “I mean...”
Deidra sighed. “I believe this year's funding for additional weapons has dried up my lord.”
The lord shifted his gaze to the princess. She shrugged. “We cannot do more this year or the next. Our budget is already committed to rebuilding duchy Emroy and building the gaijin machines. Perhaps next year if things change for the better. You can of course introduce a bill for additional funding in the House of Lords... Of course you'd have to find a way to pay for it as well. I dare say raising additional taxes would be met with heavy resistance from the county lords though,” she said almost sweetly. Ryans knew her heart just wasn't in it. He also knew why and regretted locking her out and not keeping her informed. He w
as in for a row, he saw it coming and braced himself mentally even as this one played out before him.
The lord shifted back and forth. “Can I buy them for my own demense?” he asked after a moment of thought.
Ryans gave him a long look. “No. We agreed that they would be used for the Imperium's army alone. Though I may talk with the house about that. I suppose we could amend the treaty to add hunting weapons to the list. That would help keep the basilisks and other predators down.”
The lord's eyes gleamed. Ryans shrugged. “I'll talk it over with Perry. He has different orders where weapons are concerned than I do. He's already bent his orders up a bit and he was not happy about what his superiors were going to say later. It's his bailiwick,” he said firmly. The lord frowned.
“Besides, I think we've got some exploring on the agenda as well. I think the Queen has decided to see if we can occupy some of the unexplored areas and more of the mountains... and set up crown reserves...”
The lord looked surprised. “Open up more land?” That had been a topic of interest of all the border lords.
“Of course. There is more than one way to gain land here. This is an entirely new world after all,” Ryans waved. “We could expand in different areas right up to the borders of neighboring Kingdoms. Or even set up lords on distant islands.”
The general stared, looking from one to another as if in a tennis match. Ryans felt a little sorry for the old man. He did ask for it though.
The lord looked surprised and then he smiled, suddenly interested in the idea. “True. And we don't have to fight anyone to gain this new land, an interesting proposal. One I will have to deliberate on carefully.”
“It has its upsides and downsides. There are little or no people to take over... and no infrastructure, but then again we don't have to kill anyone and it is there for the taking. We can also set up our own new infrastructure there from the ground up exactly the way we want it,” Ryans said suggestively.
Deidra nodded glancing at him then turning her attention to the lord. “It's a very interesting proposal my lord. Since your barony is on the eastern border we could see you expanding outward... possibly beyond the Crymerian mountains?”
The lord puffed a little then nodded. “Yes indeed., much to think about. Good day,” He bowed and turned. “Coming general?”
The general looked a little lost and then nodded politely to Princess Deidra and walked off stiffly. He didn't even acknowledge Ryans.
“Well that put something in the old geezer's craw,” Deidra murmured. She turned a gimlet eye on Ryans. “I do wonder why the sudden change in priorities though,” she said with a slightly dangerous lilt in her voice as her tone cooled and her eyes glared.
He smiled. “It's better to be safe than sorry. And getting this out is a priority.”
She nodded. “Indeed it is. But still. The timing...”
He nodded. “Yup. And yes dear, before you ask it was definitely due to that little dinner last night. Deidra I will not aid in going to war. Not like that, not now, not ever.”
She sighed. “Sometimes direct action isn't the only way you know my love. You don't trust us?”
“You, yes. Your mother...” He shrugged and waved his hand showing maybe. “Your lords? To be honest? No. Nope. Not as far as I can throw them. And a few are...”
“Fat over bred sows?” Deidra asked with a slight smile.
“Fat wrinkled boars you mean,” he chuckled. Her smile widened slightly. “But for some, it is all they know. This isn't exactly direct action to stop them... more of a, let’s say, side thing. But it does cut them off at the knees. Hopefully it'll nip things in the bud.”
She nodded. “It does indeed. I hope it doesn't come back on us later however.”
He sighed. He knew politics; he knew thwarting the lords wouldn't sit well with them. “Oh it will I bet. But if we can play it right, the problem will go away... but some of the resentment will linger.”
“Yes,” Deidra sighed. “Yes indeed,” she said softly.
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Rojer frowned at his steward. Yorick was normally a good sort, good at attending to his needs and even anticipating them. However Yorick had so far failed miserably in this small task. “So, none?”
“No your grace,” Yorick sighed, indicating the spent casing on the Duke's desk bloater. “None but this. They have strange markings on them and they use that to keep track of them.”
“Serial numbers,” Rojer murmured darkly.
Yorick nodded. “Yes my lord. I don't know how you knew. I found out before but after the banquet the gaijin have cracked down on use of the ammunition. Now the general and Maximus have put strict limits on their use and do inventories themselves. I can't get a full one.”
“Full one,” the Duke said. He remembered the serial numbers, the machine maker Max had spoken of it to the Queen in his hearing once. He'd thought it a good idea at the time, to track a lot of something in case something went wrong with it. Now he realized it had another purpose.
“So you're saying there's no way to bribe one out of the hands of a soldier?” the Duke asked, using his finger to flick the brass cylinder over.
Yorick shook his head. “No my lord. Each must account for their rounds at the end of the day. And each armory is checked weekly.”
“So that leaves the people who make the formula,” Rojer said. He looked from the brass shell to his steward. The steward gulped.
“I have tried Dominus, but they don't know. Some know a few of the ingredients but not the amounts. They can only remember the black powder ingredients.”
“But none know how to make it? Surely they know that!” the Duke demanded, getting to his feet to lean over his desk.
Yorick was instantly cowed by his commanding presence. His eyes looked away. “None are in the making from beginning to end my lord. Each only knows a part of the whole.”
“Then bribe...”
“The more we bribe my lord the more know we are asking. Thus increasing the danger,” Yorick said in a rare interruption of his Duke.
Rojer stopped mid sentence and paused, staring at the man. Finally his fingers drummed on the desk. He scowled blackly. “True. What of the maker? The woman?”
“She is the only one who knows.”
“Then perhaps we should do something about that. Find her formula. She must have written it down! Find it and copy it,” the Duke ordered.
“Their machines are guarded. She... we can check her quarters and her place of work my lord,” Yorick said.
“Do that. If that doesn't work we'll have to find a way to encourage her to tell others,” the Duke said, eyes glittering.
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Wanda came back from lunch humming a tune. She nodded to a man passing her wearing a brown cloak. He growled as he passed. She turned and then felt a sense of unease as the man paused and gave her a look. They heard a clatter and he darted a look up. She looked as well to see the shadows of approaching guards. When she turned back he was gone.
“Is something wrong here mistress?” one of the guards asked.
“I'm not sure,” she said slowly. “I just had a suspicious encounter with someone.” She shook her head as they looked concerned at her.
She moved down the hall to her lab and then paused. Something felt wrong. She looked down to see a flicker of light and shadow under the crack. She touched the door and instantly felt heat.
“Damn!” she swore as she turned. “Ring the fire alarm and find that bastard!” she yelled, reaching for the new fire extinguisher strapped under a wall lamp. She blessed Ryans and his foresight.
One of the guards goggled but the other immediately took a whistle out and blew it hard three times. He slapped at his partner. The partner looked and then nodded at the direction the guard was pointing. He took off a trot and then broke into a run as he heard the sounds of crackling fire behind him.
“Crap, crap, crap!” Wanda snarled. She kicked open the door and then beg
an to spray. “Get me another!” she yelled over her shoulder. The guard nodded as more people came running.
The fire flared at the sudden exposure to oxygen, but the fire extinguisher quickly ended that. She quickly ran out of material though. She backed away as the fire spread once more. She coughed as the thick oily smoke billowed again.
Workmen elbowed her aside and began spraying the fire with their own extinguishers. One had an ax; he used it to smash the window out. Thick black smoke changed direction.
A bucket brigade was in the hall but she waved them back. “Don't!” she said then coughed, grabbing at the arm of the man in the lead. “It's an oil fire, hold off!” she coughed. “It'll spread it!”
The man looked, swore something and then put the bucket down. He waved to the others. One of the firemen came out waving a hand in front of his face and supporting another. Word was passed to exchange the water for sand.
“It's out but it's a mess in there,” he coughed. His extinguisher slipped through his fingers to clatter on the stone floor. “Glad you've got stone floors mistress,” he said shaking his head.
“And stone walls. You and me both,” she said shaking her head. “Lamp oil right?”
“Yes mistress, was it... was it tipped over?” he asked suggestively.
“No,” she said shaking her head firmly. “I didn't even have anything on. But I think I know what happened...”
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“So it was no accident?” the Queen asked. She frowned, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. She was glad this had happened now instead of earlier, but the timing...
“No your majesty, we're just lucky she had been working on medical materials for Doc. If she had still been working on explosives it could have taken half the castle,” Perry said.
The Queen paled. She sat abruptly. “That bad?”
“Explosives aren't something you play with,” Ryans said, shaking his head. He darted a reproving look at Perry. “But yeah it would have done some damage. But Wanda always worked in small doses so it would have been bad but not catastrophic.”
