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Chapter 127 (From engineer to Conqueror.)
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 20:06:28 +0000 UTCMiguel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the room's expectations, but he maintained a firm posture and a serene expression. He was a king and knew he needed to convey confidence and clarity. “Your Majesty Thrain, Counselor Dáin, Governor Baudor,” he began in an assertive tone, “what I propose goes beyond the traditional smithing we know. I want to build a foundry.”
There was a moment of silence as the dwarves exchanged confused glances. “A foundry?” asked Dáin, the representative of the Council of 100, narrowing his eyes. “We are masters of smithing, human king. But what you mention sounds... different.”
Miguel nodded. “Yes, it is different. You are masters of manually working metal, creating unique masterpieces. But a foundry isn’t just about manual skill — it’s about large-scale efficiency. It’s about producing more, with consistent quality, and in less time. Allow me to explain.”
Miguel unrolled one of the scrolls he had brought, revealing detailed sketches of the machines he planned to construct. He pointed to the first one. “This is a high-temperature furnace. It will be the foundation of the foundry. Unlike common forges, it is designed to melt large quantities of iron ore uniformly and efficiently, using an advanced ventilation system. This saves fuel and speeds up the process.”
He moved on to the next sketch. “Here we have a rolling mill. It uses cylinders to transform molten steel into sheets or bars. These pieces can then be used to manufacture weapons, tools, or other essential parts.”
Miguel pointed to the next drawing. “This is a power hammer, a heavy piece of equipment that uses levers and weight to shape metal quickly. It will be crucial for creating larger pieces.”
Thrain interrupted Miguel, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “This is fascinating,” he said, stepping closer to the table to examine the drawings more closely. “We’ve never thought of something like this. You’re describing a division of labor that uses machines for specific tasks, as if each piece had its function in a larger puzzle. Impressive.”
Dáin, however, maintained his skeptical tone. “But why do you want this, King Miguel? Why such an ambitious structure? Surely it’s not just for the glory of building something grand.”
Miguel smiled faintly, realizing it was time to reveal his trump card. He walked over to his bag, opened it slowly, and carefully removed a rifle, a pistol, and some ammunition. The weight of the moment was palpable as he placed the items on the table.
The dwarves in the room fell silent, their gazes a mix of curiosity and caution. “What is this?” Thrain finally broke the silence.
Miguel carefully picked up the rifle, holding it for all to see. “These are long-range weapons,” he began, “similar to bows and crossbows but far more efficient and destructive. This is a rifle, and this is a pistol. They are being used at this very moment by my troops in the war against the coalition of human kingdoms.”
He placed the rifle back on the table and picked up one of the bullets, holding it up for the dwarves to see. “But here’s the problem,” he continued. “These weapons depend on ammunition. This small piece here needs to be mass-produced so we can stop the enemy’s advance. However, production has been a challenge.”
He handed the bullet to Thrain, who carefully took it and examined it closely. “My blacksmiths are few, and manual labor simply cannot keep up with the demand. That’s why I’ve come seeking your help. I know you possess the skill and technology to help us produce this on a large scale.”
Dáin crossed his arms, still analyzing everything with skepticism. “Interesting, but even so… I want to see how this works. Words and sketches are fine, but nothing compares to a practical demonstration.”
Thrain looked at Miguel, his expression still serious, but there was a spark of fascination in his eyes. “I want to see it too,” he said. “If what you say is true, King Miguel, then I want to witness these weapons in action. I want to understand how they work and what makes them so revolutionary.”
Miguel nodded calmly. “Of course, Your Majesty. I would be delighted to demonstrate them for you.”
Governor Baudor, who had remained silent until then, gave a slight smile. “It seems we have a test to organize,” he said, clearly satisfied with the direction the conversation was taking.
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The testing field had been set up according to Miguel’s specifications. It was an open, well-defined area with reinforced wooden targets placed at different distances. The dwarven kingdom’s banners fluttered around, marking the perimeter’s safe limits. Guards and dwarven observers stood watch, ensuring everyone remained at a safe distance. Young King Thrain, Counselor Dáin, Baudor, and other dwarven leaders were in a reserved, slightly elevated area with a clear view.
Miguel walked to the center of the field, rifle in hand. His posture was confident, but he knew he needed to demonstrate the weapon’s effectiveness flawlessly. He began explaining: “Your Majesty Thrain, Counselor Dáin, Governor Baudor, and all present, this weapon I call a rifle uses a simple but powerful principle. It is not magic, as you might think at first glance. What makes all of this possible is something I call chemistry — a practical evolution of alchemy.”
The dwarves murmured among themselves, intrigued. Some looked warily at the rifle, while others were clearly fascinated.
Miguel continued. “Gunpowder, the heart of this system, is a specific combination of elements that, when compressed and ignited, create a controlled explosion. This explosion generates enough force to propel the projectile, which you will see pierce the targets ahead.”
Miguel paused to check the rifle. He kept his tone calm and controlled, explaining as he showed the weapon’s components. “The cartridge contains both the gunpowder and the projectile, all in a single package. After firing, the cartridge is empty but can be reused by reloading it with new explosive powder and another projectile.”
With all the spectators now focused, Miguel positioned himself. He loaded the first cartridge into the rifle, aimed at the nearest target, and fired. A loud bang echoed across the field, the sharp, strong sound reverberating in the silence that followed. The target was pierced through the center, but none of the dwarves could see the projectile — only the sound and the impact.
Miguel quickly removed the empty cartridge, loaded another, and fired again. Another bang, another precise hit. He repeated the process once more—three perfect shots in less than 15 seconds.
The dwarves were astonished. Young King Thrain leaned forward, intrigued, while Counselor Dáin, though skeptical, seemed impressed. Some in the audience whispered among themselves, and Baudor maintained a satisfied smile.
Miguel lowered the rifle and walked to the targets. He pointed to the three perfect holes, then returned to collect the empty cartridges from the ground. “This is what remains after each shot,” he said, showing the cartridges to the dwarves. “As I mentioned, these can be reused. Currently, about 70% of the cartridges fired by our troops are being recovered and reloaded. But this process is time-consuming and requires extensive manual labor, something we cannot sustain on a large scale.”
He turned to Thrain and Dáin, his expression serious but confident. “That is why I am here. I want to build a foundry that will not only produce new cartridges but also recycle used ones more efficiently. I want Drakmoor and this kingdom to have the capacity to produce thousands of rounds of ammunition per day. This will not only keep our frontlines supplied but also allow us to push toward victory and peace.”
Thrain looked at Miguel, clearly impressed but still thoughtful. Dáin, though maintaining his critical stance, could not hide the gleam of fascination in his eyes. The demonstration had planted an important seed. Miguel knew this was just the beginning, but he felt he was taking the right steps to earn the dwarves’ trust and cooperation.
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The atmosphere in the meeting room had completely shifted since the start of the conversation. Young King Thrain was now much more engaged, speaking enthusiastically and gesturing as he asked Miguel questions about the rifle’s mechanics and the concept behind the ammunition. He leaned forward in his chair, almost like a child intrigued by a new toy.
“You really thought of all this yourself, King Miguel? How did you manage to combine so many technical details and make something so effective?” Thrain asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.
Miguel smiled, relaxing for the first time since his arrival. “Your Majesty, I would say it’s the result of much observation and study,” he replied. “And with time and resources, I am certain you could manufacture these weapons and even improve upon them. Knowledge should be shared, not hoarded.”
Before the king could respond, Counselor Dáin interrupted, crossing his arms and looking at Miguel with a serious expression. “All of this is indeed impressive, I admit,” he began, his voice carrying a tone of caution, “but we cannot simply agree to create these machines and collaborate with you without guarantees. How can we be sure this foundry you wish to build won’t one day be used to produce weapons that could be turned against the dwarves?”
The silence in the room was heavy. Miguel maintained his composure, taking a deep breath before responding. “Counselor Dáin,” he began, his voice calm but firm, “let me be clear: the dwarves have never been, and will never be, a threat to me or to Drakmoor. My only enemy, and the only threat I see, is the coalition of human kingdoms that is trying to destroy everything we are building.”
To reinforce his point, Miguel walked to his bag once again and retrieved several well-organized scrolls. He placed them on the table, stacking them carefully, and pushed them toward Thrain and Dáin. “These are designs I believe could benefit the dwarven kingdom,” he explained. “Some of them remain on paper because I lack the resources or manpower to bring them to life. But you have both. If we work together, I believe this could be transformative for both of our kingdoms.”
Young King Thrain picked up one of the scrolls, unrolling it to reveal a detailed sketch of a mining machine. His eyes widened as he analyzed the design, quickly moving on to another scroll, which seemed to detail an advanced irrigation machine. “What is all this?” Thrain asked, clearly impressed.
Miguel smiled, his expression serious but warm. “These are ideas to solve problems I believe are universal. Machines to make mining more efficient, systems to improve irrigation in agricultural fields, and even methods to reinforce structures with new types of metal alloys. Things that could help both you and me. Progress should not be limited by borders or distrust.”
Counselor Dáin also examined the scrolls closely, his hardened face softening slightly as he read the technical details. Finally, he looked up at Miguel, still with a hint of skepticism but visibly impressed. “Who exactly are you, King Miguel? Where does all this knowledge come from? I’d like to dismiss these ideas as absurd, but…” He held up one of the scrolls. “…these designs seem perfectly functional, even though they are just on paper.”
Miguel leaned slightly forward, his face serious. “Counselor Dáin, I am simply a man who believes in progress. A scholar who wants to build something better. I am nothing more than someone who has seen the world as it is and believes it can be different.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was not out of distrust. It was one of reflection. Both the young king and the counselor seemed deeply thoughtful, absorbing what Miguel had said and shown. Governor Baudor, seated nearby, smiled faintly, seemingly satisfied with the direction of the conversation.
