In the abandoned, dusted forge, the leaky roof let patches of morning sunlight stream through, casting beams that glinted off a cold furnace. See a table covered by a canvas, beside an empty sand mold. Smith perched on a small stool, there is a tray of untouched sand at his side, while Shylock leaned against a wooden pillar.
"Look, Smith, this place is a perfect starting point!" Shylock laughed, his eyes sparkling.
"You could build anything from rockets to robots! So, what you gonna make—rocket or robot?"
Smith scanned the forge, his eyes filled with skepticism.
"Rockets? Robots? Shylock, what are you talking about? This is a crappy old forge. No modern tools, no extra resources. I don't even know where to start."
Shylock clapped Smith's shoulder hard.
"Don't talk like that! I've got a business plan, Smith. Serera's always at war.
What if you made modern weapons… like guns?"
Smith froze, staring wide-eyed at Shylock.
"Guns—Guns? What are you thinking? We just started this game, with a lack of resources and outdated tech. How am I supposed to make guns? At best, I could do a flintlock or maybe a cap-and-ball revolver from the Civil War era!"
Shylock's smile faltered briefly, but his eyes gleamed with a new idea. He paused, then grinned wider.
"Exactly! Make a cap-and-ball revolver! With your experience, you can totally pull it off!"
Smith sighed heavily.
"Sure, but the quality'll match. No high-grade steel, no modern tools. It'll be a homemade grade."
"Homemade's fine!"
Shylock exclaimed, buzzing with excitement.
"At least knights or generals might buy in stock. We'll be arms dealers, Smith! We've got cash from the treasure we dug up—I've got thousands of pence to buy more tools."
Smith nodded slowly, starting to see the potential.
"Alright… but we start small. I'll use this sand mold to design basic revolver parts—cylinder, barrel, and hammer. I can probably utilize some old iron from this forge."
The burly man stood, grabbed a small stick from the floor, and sat back down at the stool, facing the empty sand mold. Smith carefully scratched outlines into the sand, drawing the cylinder, barrel, and hammer. His breathing was steady, brimming with focus.
Shylock watched, he's excited.
"That's it! Smith! If we sell these guns, no more treasure digging or waiting for silkworms to cocoon. We'll get rich off weapons!"
"Rich is nice, but if the gun blows up in a customer's face, we'll make enemies instead," Smith yaps.
"Shylock, help me find gunpowder and lead. I want to start testing today."
Shylock frowned. "But Serera doesn't have gunpowder."
"Perfect. To make a cap-and-ball revolver work, we need gunpowder first. Because no one in Serera knows about it, I'll have to start from scratch—mix it myself."
Shylock scratched his head.
"From scratch? What even is gunpowder? I just know it explodes. What do you need?"
"Basic gunpowder needs three things: charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter (potassium nitrate). amount 75% saltpeter, 15% charcoal, 10% sulfur, mixed and ground fine. The problem is, I don't know where to find these in Serera."
"Charcoal's just burnt wood, right? For sulfur and that saltpeter stuff, I'll help look. Drechuis probably has caravan traders or shamans."
"Good. I'm counting on you," Smith said.
"But the harder part is the cap—the part that ignites the gunpowder in a revolver. I need a chemical that explodes on impact, like mercury fulminate. This is the medieval era—where am I getting modern chemicals?"
"Fulmi-what? I'm lost, man. You've got a plan B, right?"
Shylock's face was blank, overwhelmed by the scientific name.
"Yeah, I'll use Aden resources instead. Remember when you lit a fire with that yellow amber? I saw sulfur crystals in the forest near Drechuis that explode when struck. If I mix them with ground lead, they might work as a cap."
"Sounds awesome!" Shylock's eyes lit up. "I'll hunt down those sulfur crystals and saltpeter. What can you do in the meantime?"
"I'll start with charcoal, using wood from this forge, burned in a low-oxygen fire to make powder. Then I'll melt old iron for the cylinder and barrel. But you'll need to help me grind the gunpowder later—it has to be fine, or it won't explode evenly."
Shylock laughed. "Grind gunpowder? Me? Sure! But if it blows up in my face, I'm blaming you!"
Smith gave a small smile. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. But we go slow, or we'll be Serera's first fireworks inventor before we get a gun."
Smith began burning wood in a small furnace. White smoke curled from the vent, the sharp scent of charred wood stinging the nose. Shylock waved the smoke away. Smith sat by the furnace, pouring molten lead into the sand mold.
"First prototype barrel… half done," Smith talked to himself, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Soon, Shylock returned, arms full.
"I'm back! Got all! White clay from the valley, some white rocks the elders call salt stones, and yellow crystals that explode if you hit 'em too hard—here's your 'sulfur crystal'!"
Smith inspected each item with a craftsman's eye.
"This… natural potassium nitrate! And this…" He held up a sulfur crystal to the light.
"It won't replace fulminate, but it's a solid start."
Shylock smile proudly.
"Told ya an old trader like me can find anything! How do we start?"
Smith grabbed a small wooden bucket and faced the charcoal furnace.
"With an ancient recipe… finely ground oak charcoal, mixed with this clay and sulfur."
Smith blended the gunpowder to the calculated ratio, producing coarse black grains.
Shylock swallowed hard.
"How do we test it? Just light it?"
"Not yet. We need to grind it finer. If the grains are too big, it'll just burn, not explode. We need a controlled blast to fire a lead ball from the barrel."
They took turns grinding the powder in a clay mortar. Smith directed the ratios while Shylock pounded.
"Smith, is this an innovation or a trap to blow ourselves up?"
"Bit of both."
Smith reply.
.
After hours of grinding, the prototype gunpowder was ready. Smith scooped the dark gray powder into a small cup.
"Now we test it on an iron plate. If it explodes like it should… it's good."
They stepped back three meters. Smith lit the powder.
Fwoosh! BOOM!
A blast echoed, black smoke billowed, and the iron plate shot across the forge, slamming into the wall.
"Oof!" —Shylock flinched, tumbling backward.
"That loud enough for you?"
he gasped.
Smith faced his partner. He smiled.
"It works, Shylock… Hail to Serera's first gunpowder!"
Shylock stand up, laughing with excitement.
"Soon, our names'll be in history books! I would call it 'Fire Spear' or 'Dragon Slayer'!"
Smith watched the smoke rise.
"Not there yet. But if we can fire a bullet from a barrel… then we'll write our names in history."
On the table sat sparkling sulfur stones, ground lead, a small iron hammer, and a clay cup. Smith said that
"These sulfur stones explode when hit… If they can replace mercury fulminate, the cap might work…"
He tapped the hammer lightly on sulfur powder.
Pop!
A small explosion rang out.
"Nice, it works." Smith smiled, then struck a crystal harder.
Pop!
A louder blast coated Smith in black dust, leaving a small burn mark. The sulfur crystal didn't detonate violently but shattered into fragments.
The burly man sat, grinding sulfur crystals with a stone mill, a cloth tied over his nose to block dust. He poured the powder into a clay cup, mixed it with ground lead, and stirred carefully with a wooden stick. Shylock show up, chewing dried carrot.
"Hey, Smith! I saw flashes from outside the village. Locals are asking, you're messing with magic or blowing something!"
Smith didn't turn.
"No magic, Shylock. Just a little cook."
Smith took molten lead, pressed it into a half-circle mold, forming a small metal cup. Using tweezers, he packed it with the sulfur-lead mix, pressing it tight.
Shylock leaned in.
"That's the cap? That tiny thing'll explode?"
"Just needs impact."
Smith said, gently setting down the first cap.
"It'll ignite the gunpowder instantly. Pull the trigger, and boom."
Shylock gulped. "Y'know, Smith, I'm starting to get scared of you."
"Don't be scared now… Save it for when it actually works."
Smith yapped.
The burly man sat filing iron with a fine rasp, beside a hand-turned lathe he'd crafted and an iron rod fitted with a small blade for cutting threads. Shylock walked in, holding half a loaf of bread.
"I'm figuring out how to make the gun more accurate," Smith said, eyes fixed on his work.
"I'll add rifling to the barrel… to spin the bullet."
Shylock's eyes widened. "Spin? Why does the bullet need to spin?"
Smith rubbed a wooden template he'd carved with grooves.
"Yeah. Spinning stabilizes it in the air—makes it more accurate and critical."
"How you gonna do it?" Shylock asked.
Smith held up the bladed iron rod.
"Insert this, turn it slowly with a hand crank. It'll carve a spiral for rough rifling."
"Whoa… Wow!" Shylock nearly dropped his bread.
Smith giggles softly. "Not enough. Without bullets, it's useless."
"And the bullets?"
"Pre-made cartridges—paper wrapped with gunpowder, twisted shut to seal it. The packet's attached to a blunt copper bullet. To fire, tear the paper, pour the powder into the revolver's cylinder, not the muzzle one, ram the bullet in, and fit the cap behind."
Shylock nodded.
"That sounds simple enough for anyone to use."
"That's the goal. Adds value too."
Shylock stood, hands on hips, watching Smith test the lathe, and asked,
"How's the gun work?"
"Single-action revolver, six chambers, each loaded with powder and a lead ball. You cock the hammer by hand each time to fire. Pull the trigger, the hammer hits the cap, the spark ignites the powder, and… boom!"
Smith spun the cylinder—click!—the sound was clear.
"The cylinder rotates on an axle I machined with the shaft. Six shots, one chamber at a time." Smith gave a faint smile.
Shylock, thrilled, dropped his bread.
"Awesome! If this works, I'll pitch it to knights, captains, or black-market traders! They'll pay gold nuggets for sure!"
Suddenly, a shout echoed from outside the forge.
"Hey! Who's in there?!"
A young man in adventurer's gear, a longsword slung across his back, stormed in with a menacing air.
"I'm the heir to the old blacksmith! This forge is mine! If you're using it, you owe me a cut!"
Smith and Shylock exchanged glances. Shylock whispered, "Keep working on the gun. I'll negotiate."
Smith sighed.
"If I've gotta make guns and deal with this, I want a bigger share!"
Before they could negotiate, a scream pierced the air from the village.
"Raptors! Raptors are attacking the village!"
Shylock grabbed a lantern. "Should we test the gun now? Blast those raptors!"
Smith shook his head, snatching the gun before Shylock could.
"No! It's not ready."