A Fucked-Up Day in the North (3)
As I had told Roena, uniform quality was a critical matter. It was impossible for every single item to be perfectly identical. That only happened on conveyor belts in factories, stamped out to exact specs. But you had to at least try to get close.
Back on Earth, in the 3rd century BCE—before Goguryeo, Baekje, or Silla had even been founded—Qin Shi Huang had standardized arrowheads so they could fit any bow. The bronze arrowheads excavated from his mausoleum had errors of just a few millimeters. I was a Western history major, not Chinese history, so I didn't know the fine details. But the point was, it was prejudice to think ancient people were ignorant. The difference lay between experiential knowledge and systematizing it for understanding. What I was attempting fell into the latter category: standardization and classification based on specs.
To that end, I'd had my adjutant Roena summon the craftsmen who supplied bows to the northern army.
"We pay our respects to Your Grace."
"We may be ignorant of court etiquette and commit some offense. Please forgive us."
"I don't care about petty etiquette. Sit down first."
The craftsmen, their eyes uneasy, took their seats one by one. It was unusual for a grand duke to summon mere artisans in person. But I had no intention of berating them. Anyone watching might think I was about to devour them alive.
While thinking that inwardly, I smoothly began the prepared speech from my mouth.
"Are those the bows produced in your workshops?"
"Yes, Your Grace. We were told to bring samples of what we supply when coming to see you."
"Good."
I glanced over the bows laid out on the table. Even at a rough look, they were all over the place. Short bows for hunting, crossbows, and even long longbows.
"Do you have arrows?"
I suddenly picked up the longbow in front of me and asked.
"F-Forgive us, Your Grace. We didn't think of arrows..."
"No need to apologize. It's not a big deal."
I'd planned to test-fire one if there were arrows. Settling for second best, I conjured an arrow-like shape with aura. Pulling an empty bowstring could snap the bow from the tension, so I nocked the aura arrow and drew it back with full force before releasing.
Shrieeeek!
The aura arrow sliced through the air viciously before dispersing into powder just shy of embedding in the wall.
The craftsmen’s faces darkened. They'd been suddenly summoned, and now it looked like a show of force as I drew the bow. From their perspective, it was natural to think they'd fallen out of favor with the grand duke.
If I tested a few more, things might turn awkward. Calmly setting the bow down, I said,
"Impressive draw weight. Ordinary soldiers couldn't handle it."
Did it sound like criticism? The longbow's maker immediately glared and retorted,
"But if shot properly, my bows can pierce troll hide, Your Grace."
"A skilled archer could punch through plate armor on a man, so that's obvious. Made of yew?"
"Yes. Yew's core resists compression, and the outer bark resists tension. You shape the inside round and the outside flat for a good bow."
"I see."
I set down the longbow I'd been holding and picked up another beside it. Same as before, I nocked an aura arrow, drew, and released. As expected of a longbow, the draw weight was tremendous. But there was a slight difference from the first one.
"Different weights."
Decisively, it was also subtly heavier than the one made by the other craftsman. It wasn't my Sword Master senses picking up fine nuances. The difference was blatant enough for anyone to notice.
As I alternated between the two longbows, lifting and setting them down, my expression grew subtly strained. Perhaps that's why the man who'd just glared in protest bowed his head.
Next, my gaze fell on the crossbows. Unlike the artifact crossbows I'd issued to my troops as squad support weapons, these were pure mechanical crossbows. Some were hand-cranked, others full arbalests with steel bodies. The latter required a crank since no human could span them by hand. It was a fairly advanced arbalest design. If memory served, they were labor-intensive, so supply numbers were low. In this era of handmade processes, it was unavoidable.
Anyway, no need to test-fire the crossbows. The differences were obvious even visually.
Okay, got the picture. Your skill level. Boring enough to die.
"Inspection's over. Let's get to the point."
"Yes, Your Grace."
I circled the table, gathering up the small hunting bows. These could barely scratch orc hide. Fine for small monsters, but unfortunately, my army didn't need them. Clutching an armful, I asked,
"Who made these bows?"
"I did, Your Grace."
"The third one Your Grace held is mine."
The craftsmen answered promptly, faces anxious.
"We have no need for such small bows in our army. Can't you make yew longbows?"
"We know the method to some extent, but..."
"Good. From now on, produce and supply yew longbows."
Crash!
I dumped the armful of bows onto the floor. The craftsmen recoiled in shock. I felt a twinge of guilt at their expressions, but this shock therapy was necessary.
"The monsters we face relying on the Great Wall are mostly medium-sized or larger. Against them, hunting bows lack power and range. Do you understand?"
"But I've never made a longbow."
"Learn. It's just bigger; the woodworking process is similar."
"From whom?"
"Good question."
I turned to the longbow makers.
"Can any of you teach longbow crafting?"
"..."
No one answered, naturally. In this era, skills were passed down apprentice-style. These men were essentially military suppliers, competitors. Who'd willingly teach a rival? They'd suspect bootlicking.
But add proper incentives, and it changed.
"Whoever teaches longbow crafting will receive a fitting reward from the duchy’s budget. For five years, twenty percent of the gold earned by the taught craftsmen from army supplies."
"Gasp!"
Someone sucked in a sharp breath. Bows were consumables with steady army demand. No worry of losing your rice bowl, and you got royalties from those you taught. The man who'd glared at me earlier shot his hand up.
"Your Grace! I'll take responsibility and teach the skill!"
"Settled. Learn longbow crafting from him and supply longbows. And one crucial point."
I addressed the longbow makers again.
"Makers may differ, but the product's quality must be uniform."
"Pardon? Your Grace, what do you mean...?"
"I know handmade goods can't be perfectly identical. But you, who’ve made bows your life’s work—surely you can."
I nodded toward a longbow on the table.
"Even the same longbow: different weights mean different draw forces. Thus, varying arrow power and range."
"Hm."
"Because of your individually crafted bows, my soldiers practice until their hands blister, patching together inconsistencies. Uniform quality can't rely on personal hunchwork. Understand?"
"So Your Grace wants bows that fly the same no matter who shoots them?"
"Exactly. You crossbow makers too: maintain consistent quality in supplies, standardize mechanical parts."
I warned the crossbow craftsmen.
"If a crank breaks, replace just the crank. In a life-or-death moment, when your bow fails, do I tell you to climb down the wall for a new one?"
"...We will keep it in mind, Your Grace."
"My soldiers risk their lives defending the North. You and the duchy’s people sleep soundly because of them. Don't forget."
The craftsmen’s expressions grew complex, deep in thought.
Whip first, now carrot. As I exited the audience chamber, I said,
"Faithfully follow my orders, and rewards await. No improvement? Supplies cease. Remember that."
With that, I left. Roena, waiting outside, bowed.
"You’ve worked hard, Your Grace."
"It was nothing. Just talked so they'd get it."
"Was it necessary for Your Grace to meet them personally?"
"They won't slack if the grand duke himself lays down the law on specs and quality."
"Will it really work?"
"Of course."
I nodded lightly at Roena’s question.
"If soldiers use identical-quality bows, forming interlocking fields of fire between bastions—what I call kill zones—becomes easier. Individual differences remain, but at least range won't vary by bow."
"Indeed, as Your Grace says."
"Basically longbows, but switch to steel-reinforced crossbows or artifacts for ogres and trolls by purpose."
"Hm."
Roena nodded.
"No more headaches for supply staff sorting gear."
"Exactly. Sorry, Your Grace. I troubled you needlessly."
"Valid question. Don't worry."
I waved off her bowing apology and asked,
"Next schedule?"
"Yes, Your Grace. An envoy from the capital has arrived."
"Envoy?"
An envoy from the capital, out of nowhere. My brow furrowed naturally. Probably bearing some annoying task.