As there always seemed to be, an intricate balance dictated the ideal firearm. What she held now was a “Zwanzig”: an arquebus with a bore that would fit shot made by splitting a pound of lead into twenty. It had become common to refer to cannons by the weight of their shot and she saw no reason not to continue that with these firearms.
This Zwanzig fired rather small shot compared to muskets, which went as large as eight-bores. Of course, with how the weight of balls changed with respect to its diameter, the bore of those muskets weren’t two-and-a-half times larger, instead bigger by about a third.
That small difference was significant.
It had become incredibly clear to her that a lighter firearm was better. To begin with, a person had to carry it and, in battle, reload it and raise it. Thus, a lighter firearm meant less fatigue. However, this had its limit as it also needed to kill, which became the crux of the matter. A pistol could certainly kill and weighed so little as to barely inconvenience; just that, to kill, it had to be fairly close.
Therein a tension arose as it had no true answer. One ideally had the largest bore possible that the enemy may be killed while too far to suitably return fire. Indeed, she and her father had already discovered that aspect, hence the collection of cannons. Even then, gunpowder lost most of its accuracy after as little as twenty paces.
Pulled in another direction, it also became a case of asking who exactly needed to die. A common soldier of thin armour could easily find death from an arquebus at a hundred paces. The larger muskets, then, served to bring down knights with their grand armour—or their horses.
As she placed down the Zwanzig, her gaze drifted to the “Acht”, one such musket. It was a heavier firearm, so much so that it was accompanied by a long stick with a forked top that could be stuck in the ground to help support the barrel.
Of course, the weight did not truly come from having a slightly larger bore. The larger shot needed more gunpowder and so it gave a larger kick when fired which needed to be withstood. If too thin, it could well explode in place.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
These thoughts, while interesting, were also just that: thoughts. Perhaps incorrect, perhaps misleading. The Zwanzig was so named, yet the shot had to be even smaller to easily fit once the barrel was fouled by gunpowder and wadding. How clean the gunpowder burned, then, also factored into how large the shot should be. Perhaps as important, how easily the barrel could be cleaned.
A firearm did not exist in isolation, but in tension, both with things within one’s control and without.
Her focus these years had been on trying to expand the precious genius her father had discovered. In Arab works, he found such powerful alchemy, yet it still served her as little more than a novelty. It was a slow process, the end result of which could not be easily moved without incident. At the least, for defending the city, it was incredibly potent.
However, progress had been made.
As for why she, at this time, had two such firearms before her, that was because Master Haartsen had been busy. Although it had taken a month for her newest retainer to move to the city and settle in, it seemed to Julia that said master had spent every moment since their meeting in deep thought.
Julia did not wish to waste that effort, thus she made arrangements.
“This is to be the plan for the canals?”
With a polite smile, she loosely gestured at her guest. “Mr Mayor, I hear doubt,” she said, more amused than upset or annoyed.
He replied with a chuckle. “Of My Lady, I hold no doubts. It is precisely because it is not her signature in the corner that I entertain a doubt and wish to confirm.”
For a moment, she regarded him, then disregarded him. “You have spent too much time around flatterers. There is no need to flatter me, that I know well in what esteem you hold me. Be curious and speak plainly.”
At that, he laughed, even going so far as to take off his fabric cap. “Indeed, I should remember in what esteem you hold me too.” He paused there for a long breath. “I suppose what I want to know, no, what I wish to say is that this is remarkably ambitious.”
“As it well should be,” she answered.
That quick answer stilled him for a moment before more chuckles escaped him. “Yes, it suits My Lady very well.”
She spared him a smile, then lowered her gaze to the map between them, a broad map that covered much more than simply the city’s limits. He had not spoken wrong. The master had been provided the most detailed map Julia had of her fiefdom and, in return, the master had mapped out an elaborate system of canals.
Of course, it was nothing unreasonable. Julia had supplied ample guidance for it, after all, so this was something she felt entirely within possibility.
To begin with, most of the newly marked canals were for irrigation, thus loosely free as she could have those peasants on her lands work on the canals in quiet times—and encourage those peers under her to do the same. While the reins of serfdom had loosened, obligations lingered.
Then there were adjustments to existing rivers and streams. The core of her land, both city and farmland, found itself between the larger Lech and smaller Wertach. A shame as neither was suited for transport. While the Wertach was too small, the Lech had rocky patches and places where the water raced. However, this meant these two and the streams which fed into them could be dammed or bridged or diverted with little fuss.
Of course, that was not to be done without reason. Several areas had been marked out where small changes to nature’s flow could accommodate stretches of mills—water-driven hammers, mills for grinding, sawing.
Lines on the parchment did not capture the entirety of the ingenuity behind them, though. For intensive works, a stretch of hill had been mapped out where steps could be cut into the firm ground there to support several overshot water-mills in a row, along with a suitable place at the top that could be dammed to guarantee a steady flow.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Beyond industry and agriculture, there were adjustments to be made to the city itself. More places needed water as the city grew and, although only a mark on the map at this time, there would eventually be a need for a moat in front of the planned walls.
It was the work of a master.
She did not know if this master had worked so hard out of obligation, desperate to repay the kindness she had shown, or to incentivise her to continue her patronage. For how simple Eva appeared, Julia knew better. At least, she knew better than to think others beneath herself, especially those she sought out.
Her mother had written that the only skill a ruler needed to succeed was the ability to judge motivations. Every day, Julia felt the weight of this law. As she refined her own abilities, she keenly felt the gaps grow where she knew she was lacking, this ability no different.
She picked up her cup and took a sip of tea, then placed it down. “One should read this as not even a goal. Rather, it limits the range of possibilities. We are here to first discuss the expansion of firearm production, beginning with the barrel-makers. I would have you know that, if I could, we would produce ten thousand firearms over the coming four years.
“Of course, such a thing is not feasible at this time, so let us consider producing a thousand. We are speaking of only the barrels first and it is from my reports that a master and apprentice may make a barrel in a day in a rush, but I would not rush in these matters. Two or three in a week seems a more reasonable pace. Spread over two-hundred weeks, we would require five barrel per week, which would be met by two workshops devoted to barrel-making, with a third to cover the shortfall of building and staffing the places and any other delays.
“Then, of course, we consider the other parts required, the assembling of these parts, as well as the production of gunpowder. We cannot simply have a stockpile of powder sit around and grow stale. So, in our planning, we must account for how the stamp mills will have less time—and accommodate a spacing in case of incidents.”
Her monologue followed a reasonable pace, steady. To finish it, she loosely gestured at a particular place on the map, her fingertips careful not to touch the parchment.
“My advisor on this matter found here to be most suitable.”
He pressed his fingertips together, mouth thin. “The reason for your recent empathy for the prostitutes’ plight has become rather clear.”
His gaze lingered on the map a moment longer before rising to meet hers, only to find her gaze one he was now unwilling to meet.
“Mr Mayor knows more than anyone how devoted I am to my people. Regardless of what others think, prostitutes and beggars and even criminals are no less people—and they are my people. Their existence is not a blight upon this world, it is a blight upon us. It is our failing that there are women with no other choice, that there are any who go hungry and cold, and it is our failing that we must waste precious effort on tools of warfare so that others less kind than us do not seek to exploit us.”
Her pace was reasonable, steady, neither cold nor hot, nor did she raise her voice. However, he still could not meet her gaze.
Then, after a moment of silence, she continued. “I am constrained. My purpose is to help others, yet I require power to do so, power in the form of money, advisers, and authority. Every choice I make is weighed upon by the desire to help those I may immediately or to grow my power that I may help more later. So, when I may help others and grow my power, I do so.”
Silence followed, for what could he say to that? Had she given him reason to think ill of her before? Between them, it was true they had meetings which covered tricks of politics, but those tricks could hardly be called evil.
No. Rather than that, he understood his misstep was to imply insincerity. All he truly knew about her was that he could never know anything. While he felt rather sure of his ability to read people, he had seen first-hand how well she could present herself as readable to others.
The countess was perfect. Not infallible, but the perfect stewardess of both city and county. That was the truth. There couldn’t be a suggestion otherwise. Indeed, all her actions aligned with it. Any action that went against it, well, that was done by someone else without her knowledge—such as frustrating a certain judge.
Only in this moment did he finally understand his insignificance, and his significance. One of the few permitted to look behind the curtains and see her mysterious smile, a finger to her lips, and amusement in her eyes.
What had he thought upon first meeting her? Another noble, one who naturally looked down on him, her better by birth and him worse by profession. Since that time when she had so easily swayed him with an unspoken promise of respect, she had continued to grow.
There was a certain irony that she had always looked him in the eye as if equals, yet now it was him who recognised his place beneath her.
“My Lady wishes this done, so I shall endeavour to entice the guilds to it.”
She gave a gentle shake of her head. “Although you mean well, there is to be no place for guilds in this. The production of weapons and arming of soldiers is to rest within the city’s powers.”
He drew in a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “They won’t like that.”
“What power do they hold?” she asked, tilting her head. “I have healthy industries in Grosburg to pull from. These guilds do not understand their experience is all the leverage they have against me and I have spent every moment since my return to undermine that.
“Even Schulz, in his wisdom, has taken me lightly and, in exchange, I have forced into his guild those who would show him little loyalty, as well as formalised the split between notaries, lawyers, and judges. The moment he truly opposes me, I would isolate his little circle of judges and bring the rest under the city, not particularly difficult to find among those lawyers ones who desire promotion.”
His gaze, settled on her chin, narrowed. “My Lady thinks there would not be… unrest over these plans?”
A cold draft rustled the map, parchment silently rising and falling, and the oil lamp stirred—even with the glass protecting the flame.
“The guilds live by my charters. It is not unreasonable to require them to keep a proper accounting, that I may properly tax them. It is not unreasonable to ask them, in light of growing demand, to take on more apprentices. It is not unreasonable to ask them to send masters to villages in need of their services. Indeed, we only ask reasonable things of them so that, when they refuse, they become the unreasonable ones.”
This method she suggested did not sound unfamiliar to him. And, in a way, it sounded entirely foreign. The Nelli family keenly knew the importance of establishing good relations with guildmasters. A gift, a few coins. Whatever bribe they paid was more than made up for by the better deal.
No, she did not seek “deals”. He did not truly know what she sought. The changes she had pushed through at the textiles guild gave him a glimpse, yet, even then, he had been present to her negotiations with the Nelli family, to her personal profit being made.
However, his thoughts returning to how she planned to drive a wedge between the leaders and the guilds they led… he could not help but see she had already done the same with him. The Nelli family had nominated him, but she had chosen him. She had even said that he may have to choose between herself and the Nelli family one day—and she had certainly, in her own way, given him reasons to choose her.
In light of that, her explanation became all the more convincing. After all, she knew what motivated him far better than money, and always had.
“Ideally, I would push through with the city bank,” she said, her voice softer. “For which guildmaster does not enjoy a greater share? Yet, with their money in our hands, how unreasonable could they be?”
She paused there and brought up her cup for a sip, then placed it back down.
“Let us return to the topic at hand. For the militia, I will be bringing in someone to oversee them on my behalf. Or rather, you will appoint him at my request since the militia is nominally under your control when I am not leading it.
“It shall take some time before that happens. Until then, I intend to have a hundred Zwanzigs made for training purposes. After that, we shall produce muskets, at least until we know otherwise. The Captain General will ultimately be the one to set the requirements as and when he sees fit, at which time I would ask you to approve the proposals.”
Pausing there, she lowered her head a touch to catch the mayor’s eye, then added, “After all, this is to be within the city’s powers.”
Within his powers.
Indeed, she knew well all-too-well how to appeal to him.
“Of course,” he said, bowing his head. A whisper, a promise.