Fertilizer
Bang!
The duke fired, but the shot missed him. His aim had gone astray in his panic.
Thud!
The bullet punched through the carriage wall, sending splinters flying.
“?!”
But the assassin, poised to hurl his dagger, froze in place. He looked stunned by the gunshot. For a brief moment, the duke's and assassin's eyes locked. Amid the clash of metal and sporadic screams. The duke gripped his gun, the assassin his dagger, both standing stock-still.
“Fuuuck...”
The assassin shattered the silence between them. He thrust his body through the shattered carriage window. The duke shook off his daze and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
“!”
One of the guards battling the attackers glanced toward the carriage at the sound of gunfire.
“...Damn it!”
The guard protecting the carriage lay sprawled on the ground. An attacker was prying at the window, trying to force his way in. He kicked the assailant in front of him to the dirt and leaped toward the carriage.
Bang!
As he closed in fast to boot the intruder away, a second gunshot rang out.
Thud!
The attacker crumpled with far less resistance than expected.
“Are you alrigh...”
The guard shoved him aside and peered inside the carriage to check on the duke. But what met his eyes was a weapon aimed right at him.
“Gah...!”
On pure instinct, he ducked.
Bang!
A third shot echoed.
He'd heard of them before—firearms. But since they weren't available to civilians, it had only been rumors. He'd never imagined he'd encounter one firsthand.
Let alone that it would be pointed at him. Only now did he notice the attacker who'd been shoving his way into the carriage.
A neat hole right in the center of his face, and from that hole...
“Fuu...ck...”
The guard shuddered faintly as he muttered. He could picture himself in the dead man's place if he hadn't ducked.
“Ah, you alright?”
The duke's voice snapped him out of his stupor.
“...I'm fine!” “Sorry abou...”
Bang!
The duke pulled the trigger mid-apology.
“!”
Thump.
Behind him, someone hit the ground.
“...” “...” “That was close. I nearly killed you, but I saved your life too. Call it even?”
The assault wasn't over yet.
Shii...t...
The guard flinched at the fresh gunshot but held back his curse this time. He wasn't so green as to swear in front of his employer. Gripping his weapon anew, he turned back to the attackers.
“Don't stray from the carriage! Priority target is the duke!”
As time passed, the assailants—judging their mission a failure—began to flee. The guards scanned the area warily, checking for survivors among the attackers.
“Disarm them and tie 'em up. We need to find out who's behind this.” “Yes, sir.”
The guard who'd nearly eaten a bullet from the duke's self-defense weapon gave the order to his men, then approached the duke. Instead of asking if the man was in his right mind for shooting at him...
“...Are you alright, my lord?”
He chose different words. It was clearly the guards' failure that had put the duke in danger. Even if the duke made an issue of it, they had no ground to argue.
“No problems here. What about you...”
Fortunately, the duke let it slide. He even asked after the guard's condition. Instead of answering, the guard bowed his head.
“...My deepest apologies. This was our failure...” “No, it's fine. Casualties among the guards?” “Two minor injuries. One serious. The other two...”
The carriage guard had been hit. The coachman, too, had an arrow lodged in his brow at some point.
“...Head back. Tend to the wounded and see to the families of the dead...” “...Yes, my lord. I'll drive the carriage.” “Would you? Actually, never mind.”
After tending to the casualties, the duke and his entourage returned to the territory. Interrogating the captured attackers yielded various intel.
Meanwhile, word of the attack spread like wildfire.
“Things were already bad with the Ma Shin Church stirring trouble, and now they go after the duke. These are end times.” “At least he's unharmed. Lucky break.” “With the duke's elite guards, you'd think they'd hold off any attackers. For them to reach him...” “Jeez... that must've been touch and go.” “But thanks to that self-defense weapon he had...”
And with it, rumors swirled about the duke's pocket pistol.
“What was that weapon?” “Heard it's like the new military gear being rolled out...” “Yeah. Supposed to be small enough to conceal...” “Hmm. Given the times, it's intriguing...” “...So, where can one get their hands on one?”
The nobility took keen interest in self-defense firearms.
Meanwhile, the duke summoned a guard. Specifically, the one he'd nearly shot.
“So. Seems the rumors are spreading fast.” “Y...es, my lord.” “Everyone I meet brings it up. Asking if I'm okay, if I need more guards.” “...”
As he spoke, the duke toyed with his compact self-defense pistol. Petite compared to the guard's arms, but its power and speed were undeniable.
“I won't take any special measures on this. Just tell the others to watch their mouths.” “...Yes, sir.” “Especially—I don't want the rumors spreading further.”
The guard quietly grasped the duke's intent. The rumors were already out. No stopping that. But...
The part where the duke had nearly blown a hole in his face? That hadn't spread. He hadn't blabbed about it, and given the chaos, no one else knew besides them.
“Relay it to the guards well.” “Understood.”
The reason the duke had called him. The reason for these words.
A warning: Don't go blabbing about what only we two know.
“You're dismissed.” “Then...” “...Oh, right. A token of thanks.”
As he turned to leave the office, the duke called out and signaled his attendant. The man handed over a small pouch.
“You came rushing to help me when I was in danger back there.” “...I'll accept it gratefully.”
Once out of the office, he opened the pouch. A full year's salary inside. The payoff for keeping his mouth shut.
Good job holding back...
The guard's steps were light as he walked away.
To secure food supplies for the empire's rapidly growing population, the empire had tried various approaches.
Expanding farmland or trading with other kingdoms (which the empire viewed as fair deals).
Or seeking ways to enrich the soil. Things like more efficient fertilizers derived from traditional manure.
And amid the empire's shifting industrial landscape—geared toward far greater scale and efficiency—some oddballs eyed the fertilizer market.
Most farmers relied on manure they made themselves, from livestock or their own toil. But it had issues: parasites, poor hygiene, and the like.
These eccentrics zeroed in on that. Fertilizers that solved the hygiene woes while enriching soil even better than before.
Teaming up with alchemists, they plunged into this untapped market.
“Haha, to think a noble guest would grace our humble abode...” “Ahaha... no need for that...” “We're grateful you came. What brings you here, if I may ask?” “I have questions about the fertilizer's composition...” “Haha, on that topic...”
And so, Brown visited a fertilizer factory. To meet those researching ways to make land more fertile and boost yields. And with the hope that some overlapped with gunpowder tech.
“The capital draws huge crowds. Which means inevitably vast amounts of human waste. We've focused on that—process it right, and it's hygienic, parasite-free...” “Mm. Uh-huh.”
The explaining alchemist and the factory owner nodding along vigorously.
“I see...”
Unfortunately, it seemed far from the air-harvested gunpowder ingredients Brown sought.
Still... uh...
Behind them, mountains of brown piles. Brown recalled Karen mentioning they could extract gunpowder components from such stuff.
“Urk, excuse me.”
He added it to his list of candidates, but the stench was too much to bear.
“There's more I haven't explained yet! Mr. Brown!” “Something urgent came up... I'll come back when I have time!”
Once clear of the factory, Brown gulped fresh air and brushed off his clothes to shed the smell.
“On to the next?” “Yes. Location-wise...”
At his guard Arwin's question, Brown checked the map.
“It's... pretty far.”
Fertilizer plants were scattered distant from each other, and even those near the capital sat on the outskirts. To cover them quickly meant hustling.
“Animal dung...” “Shit and piss turn back into plant fertilizer, sustaining human life... the cycle...”
Time dragged on, but finding factories or researchers using nitrogen synthesis or similar proved tough.
“Seems revolvers are on every noble's lips.” “Ah, I've heard too.”
Along the way, he caught wind that the duke had survived thanks to his revolver.
“Man, this smell's soaking into my skin...” “Sorry.” “No, no, wasn't complaining.” “Just a few more and we're done...”
Chatting with Arwin, Brown checked the remaining factories.
“All shit in the end. Ironic, huh.” “Haha...”
The places they hit were much like the others. Expectations dwindled, until the final stop.
“Eh, shit? That's filthy...”
The alchemist recoiled at Brown's question.
“Haha...”
Brown chuckled at her words. Looked like he'd found what he was after.