Chapter 19
“Machines, steam engines, and... “Sorry. I'm a bit late.”
“Hurry up next time.”
“You guys are late sometimes too.”
“Fair enough.”
The owners of various workshops had gathered at the tavern. As usual, they exchanged idle chatter while waiting for their drinks and snacks. Then, one of them glanced at him and asked,
“By the way, you look a lot healthier these days.”
“Haha. That obvious, huh?”
“Anyone who doesn't notice would be blind.”
It was obvious, alright. His demeanor was far more relaxed than before. The clothes he wore. Even the watch he casually flashed. Every last one was top-shelf luxury—items that even these workshop owners would have to deliberate long and hard over buying.
“Something good going on?”
What could be more entertaining at a drinking session than catching up on each other's lives? Of course, in this case, they were less interested in the details and more curious about what had suddenly boosted his spending power so much. They all ran workshops of similar scale and earned comparable incomes, despite different specialties. So his solo spending spree raised eyebrows.
“I'll tell you later. Too awkward to spill in a place like this.”
But he seemed reluctant to say more.
“Come on. You think anyone here cares what we talk about? Don't tease us—just spill it.”
“Yeah. We're not even competitors. Let's help each other out.”
“Hmmm. Well...”
Under their persistent prodding, he finally opened up.
“You guys ever hear of something called a machine?”
“Hmm...”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.”
They wore puzzled expressions. Frustrated, he pressed on.
“Sheesh. You really have no clue.”
“So what is it?”
“Not something to explain here...”
He glanced around. It felt risky airing it in a public spot. What if a rival overheard and adopted machines too? His profits could take a hit.
“Quit stalling. We'll cover your tab...”
“We will?”
“Hey, pipe down. Anyway, just tell us.”
The others grew more insistent, itching for details. With a sigh, he relented and began explaining machines.
“Simply put, it lets one person do the work of many.”
“No way.”
“Don't lie to us.”
“It's real. And the output quality is solid—on par with multiple skilled workers.”
“Hard to buy without seeing it.”
They weren't convinced. But he'd half-expected that.
“I get it. I didn't believe it at first either. But once I installed one in my shop, it proved out. Better to buy another machine than hire more experts.”
“Where do you even get one? I wanna try it.”
“Fair warning: it's pricey, and you'll need to rearrange your whole workshop. Brace yourself.”
“Hah. Underestimating our wallets?”
“No need to worry about our pockets—just tell us.”
“...Fine. Here's what I paid to install machines in my shop.”
When he quoted the figure, they gawked.
“Whoa. That's steep.”
“Might as well hire more hands with that.”
“Heh, up to you. But I'm satisfied.”
He chuckled leisurely, sipping his drink. The conversation shifted, but the others eyed his fine clothes and watch, deep in thought.
If he's decked out like that, the machines must've boosted his profits big time.
Pricey, sure, but maybe they'll pay off even better than now.
“Take care, then. Catch you next time.”
“Yeah. Thanks for tonight.”
“Oh, and whether you get machines or not—keep this between us, yeah?”
“Obviously. You doubt us?”
Their deliberations continued all the way home from the tavern.
Screw it. Let's give it a shot.
It was a hefty sum, but his flashy getup had tipped the scales in favor.
“Something good going on lately?”
“Oh, that obvious? Eh, business has been decent.”
“New venture?”
“Spill it—we're curious.”
“You guys ever hear of machines?”
“Hmm, rings a bell.”
“Let me explain. Machines are...”
“...”
“...!”
“...Gotta get me one.”
Before long, steam engines were popping up in workshops across the empire.
“McCallson. Busy?”
“Yeah. Why track me down in the middle of this?”
McCallson, deep in steam locomotive design, was prickly.
Damn, annoying.
Still, John Brown had a question.
Fine. Beggars can't be choosers.
“Hey, McCallson. How do we cut grooves in a barrel?”
“Why bother?”
“Accuracy.”
“Why?”
“Can we build a tool to cut spiral grooves in the barrel?”
Brown skipped the details. Explaining conical Minie bullets spinning via rifling to boost range and accuracy? Tedious.
“Hmm...”
McCallson pondered, then sketched on paper.
Spiral grooves would be ideal.
McCallson shot him a glare.
“I'll warn you earlier next time.”
“Hmph...”
He grabbed fresh paper, sketched more, jotted notes, paused, then continued.
“Roughly like this—a rotating cutter linked to a wheel should cut spirals.”
“Perfect. Thanks as always.”
Back at his desk, Brown studied the drawing. A wheel-turned blade carving rifling into the barrel.
Solid performance.
Next, Minie balls. Simple: conical bullet slightly under bore size, hollow base expands on firing to engage rifling.
Good enough...
Matchlocks had been around a while; production skills had improved. Time for the next step: percussion cap firearms. With rifling and Minie balls, range and accuracy would soar.
Brown compiled notes and sought the Research Director.
“Go ahead, Brown.”
“Yes. About percussion cap rifles...”
The empire's military boasted a storied history, its might securing victories and repelling threats. Even now, it deterred any kingdom from challenging the empire.
Their new fixation? Matchlocks and cannons.
Matchlocks drew special fervor.
“Can't wait anymore. Grrr...”
“No word on ramped-up production?”
“More matchlocks! Bigger firepower!”
“We need those matchlocks...”
Decent range, potent punch, easy to train on. Reload was slow, vulnerable to rushes—but pair with spearmen and knights to cover.
They'd tested matchlocks extensively: barbarians, bandits. Data confirmed they boosted infantry power effortlessly.
Orders surged, but supply lagged at half capacity.
“Taking forever.”
“What's the holdup?”
“Designated for use, but no guns.”
“Neighboring unit's got 'em. Tell our troops to 'borrow' some?”
“...Neighboring unit—you mean us?”
“Haha. Sharp as ever.”
“Ugh, can't we speed up delivery?”
“Heard steam what's-it is rolling out—increases production beyond old levels?”
“Oho. Good news next year, then.”
Fresh rumors reached the matchlock-starved troops.
“Heard? Upgraded matchlock's out.”
“Oh? Details?”
“Perci...sion cap or something.”
“Percussion cap. Way faster reload, better range and accuracy.”
“...Revolutionary.”
“Isn't it?”
“...”
The military canceled all remaining matchlock orders.